


The Sanders Archives

by VillainVogue



Series: For The Record [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Animal Death, Body Horror, Claustrophobia, Deceit | Janus Sanders Has a Different Name, Emetophobia, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Gore, Moral Ambiguity, Multi, Panic Attacks, Trypophobia, Worms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23485459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainVogue/pseuds/VillainVogue
Summary: The Sanders Archives is an online collection of audio transcripts and written statements from those who have had supernatural or paranormal encounters, spearheaded by Thomas Sanders and Logan Berry, the latter of which also provides field notes for those cases he is able to investigate in-person. The Archives website operates as a sort of 'help center' for people seeking an explanation for whatever happened to them, or merely wanting to share their stories. That's all it is. Nothing more.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Minor or Background Relationship(s), past dukexiety - Relationship
Series: For The Record [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842607
Comments: 93
Kudos: 64





	1. Urban Exploration (Logan, 12-21-17)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil Storm is missing. Logan searches his house in hopes of solving the mystery of what happened.

_Transcription of an audio recording taken by head researcher Logan while investigating the home of Virgil Storm, who was recently declared missing and had previously reported strange occurrences inside his house._

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: Earlier this month, my friend and former roommate, Virgil, went missing. Roughly two months before, he had moved into a new house--well, new to him, I should say. It’s actually quite an old house, apparently, although neither of us could find anything on the history of the place, never mind when it was built.

Virgil and I were in relatively frequent communication during that period of time after he moved and before he disappeared. We were roommates just before that, and we shared an interest in the supernatural, so when he noticed oddities in the house, he contacted me.

I have to admit that I regret not taking him more seriously. But I had always found Virgil prone to exaggeration, and I was much more of a skeptic at the time than he was. I assumed he was simply having trouble adjusting to his new living situation. And I had offered to come and see it for myself, but he was adamant that I should stay away from the house, and I let the matter drop. I regret that, too.

That is why I am here now. I am sitting in my car, parked beside Virgil’s house, which is, as far as I can tell with my limited knowledge of architecture, a Victorian-style two-story building, and in a moment I am going to get out of my car and enter the house. I would like to state before I do so that I am using the spare key and I have permission to be here from Virgil’s family, I am not breaking and entering or trespassing in any way. And with that, I believe it is time to begin.

[sounds of a car door opening and closing, footsteps, door being unlocked and presumably opened]

LOGAN: Apologies for my brief silence, I should have paused the recording. I hope the previous 'dead air' will not hinder your transcription of this recording, Thomas.

[it didn't.--T]

LOGAN: I am now entering the house, via the front door, which I am going to leave open, I think. I confess I cannot articulate why I have such apparent misgivings about closing it. I suppose having an easy and obvious escape route in the admittedly unlikely case anything... happens... It is a comfort to know with certainty that I will be able to leave unhindered, should I need to make a quick exit. I do not foresee this being the case; however, it would be irresponsible of me to base my actions on assumptions made so early into this investigation.

[sounds of footsteps]

LOGAN: I am currently in the front hall, directly in front of the staircase leading up to the second floor. The wallpaper is exactly as atrocious as Virgil described. I am going to begin my investigation on the second floor, which I know must seem somewhat unorthodox, but the upper floors seemed to be milder in their effects, according to what Virgil told me shortly before his disappearance. I thought it prudent to--what is the phrase?--'work my way up', figuratively speaking, to the other areas of the house that Virgil deemed more difficult to deal with. What I am literally doing, of course, is working my way down.

[sounds of footsteps on creaky old stairs, door opening]

LOGAN: I am beginning with Virgil's bedroom. I am not entirely sure if I should check the attic as well while I am upstairs, as I do not believe Virgil spent much time there outside of his first day in the house. He told me he moved a few boxes of his things up there for storage, but did not notice anything odd about the space. It may not be worth the time to look there, and to be honest, I am not sure how long I am willing to spend in this house. Not because I feel some kind of supernatural presence, I have not noticed anything of the sort yet. But I am finding it difficult. Virgil's absence is even more obvious in this setting. 

His bed obviously hasn't been slept in for a long time. Everything is covered in dust. The air is stale, and there are cobwebs beginning to form in the corners of the room. This room as a whole is in more disrepair than it probably should be, given the length of time since Virgil's disappearance was reported. There are some footprints visible, despite the frankly dizzying pattern on the carpet, and a few other signs of disturbances, but I am more inclined to believe that these marks have been left from the police investigation than from anyone or anything else.

I was unable to obtain any real information on the results of their investigation outside of what Virgil's family told me, and they did not speak with particular clarity on the details. All I know for certain is that the house was searched, and that the search took an abnormally long time but was inconclusive.

It did help to eliminate one possibility, however. I can say with certainty that Virgil was not taken by anyone, at least, not from within his home. There are no signs of a struggle here, and none were found by the police, either. It is also unlikely that he planned to disappear, as most of his important possessions have clearly been left behind. Not to mention his luggage set, which I can clearly see has been stored in his closet.

[sounds of various zippers being undone]

LOGAN: Empty. No, I think we can safely conclude that whatever happened, Virgil was not expecting it. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was not prepared for it.

[sounds of footsteps, door closing, a deep breath]

LOGAN: ...Well. I do not believe there is much to be gained from spending any further time in Virgil's room, so I am going to move on now to the guest room. I doubt this will take long.

[sounds of footsteps slowing, door opening]

LOGAN: Perhaps I was mistaken, the only other door on the upper floor aside from the entrance to the attic appears to be a bathroom. I was sure Virgil mentioned a guest room when he bought this place... It may be on the ground floor instead. But while I am upstairs, let us investigate the bathroom. I am going to check the cabinets and drawers...

Nothing appears to be missing here, and it is in decidedly better condition than the bedroom. Oddly clean, in fact. There ought to be more dust, considering the fact that this room has not been used for some time. The lighting is terrible, though.

[sounds of footsteps, door closing, footsteps resume]

LOGAN: I am now returning downstairs. My first stop will be the living room, if I recall the layout correctly. I was unable to obtain a floor plan of any kind from the realtor. I was unable to get in contact with the realtor at all, actually, which I definitely find disconcerting.

[silence]

LOGAN: I am sure there was a doorway to the living room in this spot when I first entered. 

[more silence]

LOGAN: This is what Virgil was talking about, shortly before he stopped calling. He said he was afraid of getting lost in here. He didn't elaborate until I pressed him to explain what he meant, whereupon he confessed that the house appeared to be moving doors around. That it felt much larger than it appeared, that moving from room to room was becoming a terrifying prospect.

I understand now, how a trip from the laundry room up to his bedroom could take a full hour or more, as he once described. There should only be one set of stairs, but somehow it appears that I have taken the wrong one, and ended up somewhere in this house that should not exist.

I cannot fathom how it happened. My best guess is that this is due to the influence of some kind of hallucinogenic, but I have no way to verify that. There is a carbon monoxide detector, I can see it here in the hall. I am going to test it, just to be sure. I will pause the recording briefly as I do so.

[clicking sound]

LOGAN: The detector is in working condition, so we can rule out a carbon monoxide leak. Despite my belief, I am hesitant to ascribe the strange atmosphere of the house to any supernatural influence just yet. I am going to enter what I hope will be the kitchen and dining area, and then, I think, I ought to pause this investigation and return another day to check the remaining rooms. I have a feeling it will take more time than I currently have. 

[sound of footsteps, door opening]

LOGAN: Ah. This appears to be the living room. The light fixture is not working, and my phone flashlight does not provide much clarity, but this room is certainly not the kitchen, which leaves few other possibilities. I am going to open the curtains so that I may see the room better.

[sound of curtains being drawn]

LOGAN: ...Apparently I have been here longer than I thought. It appears that the sun is setting. I will try to wrap this up quickly, then. This room does not look particularly lived-in, there are a fair amount of cobwebs and dust, but not as much as the bedroom. The carpet in here is... objectively ugly. It reminds me of the wallpaper in the hallways, it has a similarly unpleasant black-and-white pattern. Nothing else of note, from a cursory examination, so--um.

The doorway through which I entered is apparently gone. That is highly alarming. I... Okay. Okay. Please believe me when I say that I turned around to see a solid wall where the door should have been, and when I turned back, the formerly solid wall of the living room in front of me was no longer solid wall.

The door moved. There is no other way to describe it, the door just... moved. Virgil was right. I will need to return with a video camera, I believe, in order to document this properly. Although I am less sure that I ought to. Return, that is. Less sure than when I arrived this morning.

Can the day really have passed that quickly? Could I have been here that long? Time does seem to distort itself in this house, as Virgil hinted, but I should not waste any more of it wondering aloud to myself.

[sound of hurried footsteps]

LOGAN: And there is the front door, still slightly ajar. The light coming from the other side looks brighter than it ought to, for the later evening.

[sound of footsteps slowing, door closing and locking]

LOGAN: Well, it appears that I have walked out into daylight. Full daylight. My watch says only an hour has passed since I started recording. I should have checked it earlier, I suppose, rather than assuming that everything I saw within the house was the truth. That must be what Virgil meant when he said that, and I quote, "it lies to you."

This is intensely disquieting. If this is even half of what Virgil experienced...

[silence, then, a clicking sound]

LOGAN: I am back home, now, and will shortly send the recordings I took today to Thomas so he can transcribe them and post them on the website. Once the aspirin kicks in, that is. As I was leaving Virgil's house, I started to develop a headache. Perhaps it is due to the stress, or perhaps some substance in the house caused it. I cannot say for sure, but it has been steadily growing worse.

I had a good amount of time on the drive back to reflect on my experience, and I still cannot find a rational explanation for it all. Not without further data. I do not know what kind of equipment would accurately track any of the phenomena I experienced, but I am willing to go back and test out various scanners, cameras, whatever Thomas can find for me, until I uncover the truth.

I need to know what happened to my friend. I just... need to know.

[Recording ends]

_As of the date of posting to The Sanders Archives, Logan has returned to the house once, a week after the initial audio recording. Equipped with a video camera and an EMF meter, Logan spent another hour in the house, focusing his exploration on the ground floor. The footage from this trip is unfortunately unavailable for viewing, as the end product was mostly just static, seemingly due to technical issues while filming, though Logan reports no unusual findings with the meter, or any unusual occurrences within the house at all during his second search. Logan intends to revisit the house at a later date as well, at which point this entry will be updated or a new entry will be added._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect for this weird mashup to be my first foray into writing Sanders Sides (or The Magnus Archives) fic, but here we are! As to how this came about, well, I've been bored in self-isolation and these are the fandoms I've been focusing on to occupy myself. I know this is probably an incredibly niche combination of fandoms, but hey, you write the fic you wish to see in the world, especially if you're unemployed and aren't in school and are procrastinating on your cosplay projects. If you want more info on this weird mashup universe/slight spoilers on what's to come, look no further than here: skaredykat.tumblr.com/tagged/The-Sanders-Archives/chrono


	2. Cognitive Distortions/Virgil, 09-21-18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Virgil Storm, regarding the events leading up to and during his disappearance. Interview recorded in-person by Logan, transcribed as always by Thomas.

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: I am... not entirely sure what to say for an introduction, I will confess, but I suppose just the facts will do. Virgil Storm, my friend, who has been missing for several months, is... back. I received a text message from him two days ago, and after multiple attempts to further contact him, he is... here with me. He showed up on my doorstep this morning and gave me a full explanation of what transpired during his absence.

VIRGIL: You really wanna do this?

LOGAN: Yes, I do. Keeping a record of what happened is important, and it is better to have that account straight from its source. If you are uncomfortable recounting the story you gave me at this time, however, you can always--

VIRGIL: No, let's do it now. While it's fresh. Go ahead, finish your intro-thing.

LOGAN: I do not believe there is much more I need to say. The rest should come from you. Please start from the beginning--when you first visited the house.

VIRGIL: That far back, huh? Okay, let's see. Um, I went with the realtor to check the place out. It didn't seem like there was anything weird going on, just some bad design choices from whoever owned it before me.

I didn't really ask a lot of questions about the house's history, but if someone dies in a house, I'm pretty sure the realtor legally has to mention that to prospective buyers, and she didn't say anything about any deaths, which I'd been worried about. It would've been super weird to live in a house someone had died in. Not as weird as what actually happened, obviously, but still. Weird.

Anyway, all she mentioned was just that the place hadn't actually been occupied for a few years, and that didn't really raise any alarms to me, so... I bought it, and I moved in. I remember I felt like I had to find a place, fast, because I--this sounds stupid now--I didn't want to be a burden on you for too much longer. I know I probably wasn't, but at the time, I just wanted to get my own place so badly that I made a snap decision.

That should have been weirder to me, in hindsight. I mean, you know me, Logan, you know I overthink everything. It takes me forever to make small decisions, let alone big ones. Breaking up with Remus was so, so difficult, and I worried about it for ages after I actually did it.

But buying the house was easy, I didn't lose any sleep over it or anything like that. I didn't think too much about the fact that when I moved in, the wallpaper looked different from when I'd gone to view the house. I don't think I even noticed it until three or four days in, actually. I didn't notice a lot of things until it was too late.

LOGAN: Too late for what?

VIRGIL: To make a clean getaway. But maybe that was never in the cards, maybe I was doomed from the moment I moved in. I guess we'll never know.

LOGAN: I am not sure what you mean, Virgil.

VIRGIL: Yeah, I, um. Left some stuff out when I told you the story before. I'll get to it, I promise. Um. Okay, so, it took about a week before the doors started moving. I didn't spend a lot of time downstairs, at first, because I wasn't used to living alone and the house felt too big and I didn't have groceries, so I wasn't really using the living room or the kitchen or any of that. I figured I just wasn't paying attention to where I was going, the first few times it happened.

But it kept happening, and it started to make less sense, and that's when I first called you. It was about two weeks after I moved in, I think.

LOGAN: Yes, I remember... I am sorry for the dismissive way in which I responded, Virgil.

VIRGIL: It's fine, I wouldn't have believed me either. Honestly, I didn't really believe what was happening at that point. It was a lot more comforting to think it was just--what do you always call it when I buy into irrational thinking?

LOGAN: Cognitive distortion.

VIRGIL: [static]---ni--ve di------ons, yeah.

LOGAN: Virgil, your voice just now--

VIRGIL: Oh. Shit. Uh, that's part of the stuff I still need to explain to you. It happens sometimes, sorry if it messes with your recording. If anything's missing or whatever I'll write down that part later.

LOGAN: ...All right. Please continue.

VIRGIL: Right. Okay. Like I said, I wanted to chalk it up to my anxiety messing with my perception of reality. So I tried my best to shrug it all off, I did some meditation, made an appointment with a therapist. On the afternoon of my appointment I went downstairs, and the front hall was gone.

It took me maybe ten minutes of wandering around to find where it had moved to, but when I did finally manage to walk out the door the sun was setting. That's when I knew that whatever was happening, it wasn't just in my head. It wasn't me. It was the house.

I don't know why I didn't try to do anything about it beyond calling you. Well, I did try and film the wallpaper moving with my phone, but it didn't work.

LOGAN: How so?

VIRGIL: Like, every time I tried, there was a new problem with my phone. Low battery, low memory, or it would just freeze, stuff like that. I gave up after the sixth time it happened. I guess I could've gotten someone to come over and see it for themselves, but... I really didn't want anyone else mixed up in it.

LOGAN: Yes, you were quite adamant that I stay as far away from your house as possible.

VIRGIL: Yeah, well, you're too curious for your own good, Logan. You would've tried to like, map it out, or something--which I admit, I tried to do too, eventually, but that didn't work either. It just made me feel even more lost. Totally improbable layout, like it was two houses layered over each other, if that makes sense. It probably doesn't.

LOGAN: No, Virgil, it... does. Somewhat. Two opposing layouts that occasionally overlap. That is what you mean, correct?

VIRGIL: I... Yeah, basically. So you went in, huh? Should've expected that, I guess.

LOGAN: Yes. I apologize, but I...

VIRGIL: Whatever, dude. Did you find the door?

LOGAN: You will have to be more specific, there are quite a few doors in that house.

VIRGIL: _The_ door. The one that you look at and you just know it's not supposed to be there.

LOGAN: Again, you will have to be more specific.

VIRGIL: I'm not talking about a door that's moved, I'm talking about an extra door. An impossible door.

LOGAN: Then, no, I do not think I found... ' _the_ door'.

VIRGIL: Yeah, what am I saying, of course you didn't, because if you did you'd probably still be in there.

LOGAN: Oh. _Oh_ , you were referring to--

VIRGIL: The door I went into that disappeared and left me trapped. Yep. That was when the layout of the house got even weirder. You saw the map I tried to draw--and before you ask, yes, you can put it on your website if you want to. If it scans. It might not, I don't know, this thing is weird with technology. I'm honestly surprised you're even able to record right now. Um. Anyway. I should keep going with the story, I guess.

It was basically a labyrinth, after I went through that door. Except when I tried to track where I thought I'd been, none of it made sense. And my phone straight-up stopped working entirely, so I couldn't call anyone for help. I couldn't keep track of the time, either. There was nothing I could do except keep walking, keep trying different turns and different doors.

After a while, it was... actually weirdly comforting. Knowing that was all I could do, and that I didn't have to worry about anything else except... walking around. And I was alone--mostly. I mean, I never saw anything, but the house itself, or whatever it was at that point, the _place_ , it had a presence that I could feel.

It wasn't malicious, not that I could tell. It was... welcoming, actually. After a while, anyway. I'm not sure how long--like I said, I couldn't keep track of how much time had passed. I didn't really care at that point. I was so wrapped up in just. Walking the halls. I wasn't even really trying to find a way out anymore. I wanted to figure out what was going on with the place more than I wanted to leave. And then I found it.

LOGAN: The way out.

VIRGIL: Yes and no. So, this is the bit I left out... The door I left that space through was not the same as the door I came in through. And it didn't lead back to the actual house right away.

There was a hallway, just a straight hallway with a door at the end. I knew, somehow, that it would lead me out. It was dark, but I could still see. There were black-and-white patterns all over the walls and the floor, but in that soft purple glow they actually looked okay. They were still all... twisty, but it didn't make my head spin this time, so that was good enough for me.

And there were all these paintings on the walls. Some were of the hallway, others were... this creature. It looked almost human, but tall and thin with really long fingers. I didn't look too closely at the paintings until they started to look like me.

I got to the end of the hallway, and I went through the door. The first thing I did was check my phone, but seeing my own reflection I nearly dropped it.

I should probably just show you.

LOGAN: Show me what, exactly? Virgil, don't walk away from the microphone--

VIRGIL [distant]: You have, like, no portable mirrors. Um. Shit. I don't know--Oh, wait, I'm an idiot.

[sound of footsteps]

VIRGIL [closer again]: We'll use your phone. Don't try to take photos or video or anything, but get the camera on. And... please don't freak out. Too much.

LOGAN: That is... ominous. All right, Virgil. I have the camera ready.

VIRGIL: Okay, now... look at me. Through the phone.

[silence]

LOGAN: Wh--you-- _how?_ I-I don't understand what I'm seeing, I--

VIRGIL: [static] --eathe, Lo--. Put th- --ne down. It's -till me, I'm st--l --ur fr---d, it- -kay. Can I t-rn -ff th- rec---ing ---?

LOGAN [breathing heavily]: Yes. Please. Virgil... You--are you--

VIRGIL: Don't. I got it, Logan, it's okay. I'm so sorry--

[Recording ends]

* * *

_Logan has provided a copy of Virgil's map, which can be seen here. He was unable to produce any visual references of Virgil himself, partially due to privacy concerns and also because he is apparently unable to be accurately photographed. Both Logan and Virgil were unwilling to give further explanation or comment on the matter._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not great at drawing, so there's no real link to Virgil's map... yet. Maybe at some point during this pandemic I'll learn how to draw something passable in MS Paint and retroactively add it in here. If you have lingering questions or just want to talk headcanons with me, feel free to comment here or send me a message on tumblr! As always, details on this AU can be found at skaredykat.tumblr.com/tagged/The-Sanders-Archives/chrono


	3. The Skeleton of a Plot (Multiple Accounts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transcripts of multiple accounts of encounters with Roman Kingsley, who apparently possesses the ability to transmute and manipulate flesh. Or bones. Or both, we're not entirely sure yet. He won't return our calls. Interviews conducted in-person by Logan, transcribed as always by Thomas. (Note: these accounts are not listed in the chronological order in which the statements were given, but by when the events described in the statement occurred. Please be aware that these statements contain descriptions of injuries, violence, body horror, and animal death.)

**Anonymous, 02-15-18**

[Recording begins]

ANON: Right. Okay. So I had this neighbor. He's an artist, or so he says. He was always very vocal about it, and about his 'struggles'. He's gotten turned down a lot by galleries and prospective buyers.

He didn't always tell me these things directly, he has the condo beside my old place and the wall was thin enough that I could hear him talking to himself, or over the phone to his mom or his brother. I think he's a sculptor, if the amount of clay I once saw him trying to drag through his front door was any indication.

God, I wish he had some kind of art studio instead. I wish he wasn't using that condo for his... work. I wish he wasn't using it at all.

[silence]

LOGAN: ...Would you care to continue?

ANON: Oh, yeah, right. Right. The first sign something was off was how quiet he got. I was used to him blasting music at all hours of the day, especially late at night, because it 'helps with the creative process', but about three weeks before I moved out, it stopped.

I figured, at the time, that he'd just decided he couldn't focus on his books while the music was on--oh, I should say, he'd been bringing a lot of books home for the last... I don't know how long, exactly, but it had been a while.

Hearing me say it now, that excuse sounds kinda dumb, but I was thinking that that's how I feel about that stuff, I can't read if the TV is on, I just end up re-reading the same page over and over. And I didn't really want to question it, anyway, because I can only hear muffled showtunes and pop and Disney songs for so long until I start to lose my mind. So I let him be.

I didn't see him outside for a while, during that quiet period, just once late in the evening when he was taking out the trash. He had a hoodie on, and the hood was up. I didn't think much of it, I didn't look into it, I'm not a creep who tries to keep tabs on everything my neighbors do, and I'm not the kind to stick my nose in other people's business unless they ask for my help.

A couple nights after he went quiet, I think it was five nights later, I heard this weird noise outside. So I looked out the window, just peeked out from behind the curtain. There was a raccoon sitting right outside his door. It looked injured, its legs were all mangled and twisted-looking--

LOGAN: Twisted how?

ANON: I dunno, like they'd been run over, they were almost flat, but they were still sticking up at weird angles. And I could see that Ro--that his light was on. He was awake. I waited for a bit, and I saw him open his door. He just stared at it for a long time. And then he went to pick it up--the way he picked it up, it was... so gentle.

He turned, and I could see his face, and he looked awestruck, respectful--no, that's not the word...

LOGAN: Reverent?

ANON: Yes! It gave me the creeps, so I stopped watching, and I tried not to think about it. I definitely didn't ask him about it later, even though when I woke up later in the night I checked and saw that his lights were still on.

I didn't wanna go near the guy after that. I started sleeping in the living room, because it was further away from him and the wall that connected our units. And I'm glad I did.

Three nights later, I heard a scream. A human scream.

It sounded like it had come from one of the other units nearby. I ran to the window to check, and everyone's lights were on by then, so I couldn't tell where it had come from. But I knew, I _knew_ he'd done something somehow.

After a while, an ambulance showed up. I couldn't see very well, I didn't want to go outside to look, but I heard later that the girl in the condo attached to Rom--to _his_ , on the other side, had apparently fallen out of bed and dislocated her shoulder really badly. I talked to her partner about it, they said that the way her arm was bent looked unnatural.

They also said they didn't remember her falling out of the bed--no, the way they remembered it was that she'd woken up screaming, and her arm already looked like it was being wrenched out of its socket.

They'd chalked it up to shock, or trauma, and I didn't correct them. They would've thought I was crazy. You can look at my hand, though, and see that I'm not. I saw it happen. I wasn't touching anything, wasn't doing anything that could've caused my fingers to bend backwards until they broke.

LOGAN: I hate to say this, but I cannot actually see that, because your hand is heavily bandaged.

ANON: Yeah, okay, but you see the bandages, you see the aftermath! It's not healing, you see that, right? You see why I ended up sleeping in a hotel while I tried to find a new place to live, because my neighbor was a mutant who breaks people's limbs and shit with his mind or his aura or some other sort of freaky powers! Right? You get it? You believe me?

LOGAN: My job is to record statements and research them, I cannot pass judgement--

ANON: So was this a waste of my time, then?

LOGAN: As I said, I will be researching the details of your statement to see what can be verified.

ANON: Right. Okay. You leave my name out of it, but you gotta warn that poor girl and her partner, both of them need to get out of there too. God, I pity whoever moves in there not knowing...

[Recording ends]

_Logan spoke with the neighbor couple listed by the source of this story, and their account of the night of the later incident did match up with the original statement. They reported no further incidents outside of the fact that the girl's arm still has not fully healed, but another neighbor approached as Logan was on his way out to say that his son had twisted his ankle playing in that area of the condo complex, and he'd noticed more injured animals in the area as well. The house of the next-door neighbor mentioned in the statement had its curtains drawn._

* * *

**Ida, 01-19-18**

[Recording begins]

IDA: Wait, wait--should I give a fake last name? Do you need a last name?

LOGAN: No, I do not. You may make your statement anonymously, if that helps to ease your mind.

IDA: That's fine, I'll just give my first name. I don't think he's coming back to the library again. Oh, I should start my story with the fact that I work at a library. I can't say where, I don't want their name involved in this. What if people think we carry books like that on a regular basis?

LOGAN: Books like what?

IDA: Like the one Roman showed me. Roman was a regular, for a few months. He was trying to find his muse, he told me. We get a lot of aspiring writers looking for inspiration. Or sometimes more technical books. He went for the 'little bit of everything' approach when it came to genres. Poetry, how-to, sci-fi, you name the topic, he'd checked out at least one book on it at some point.

I remember, though, there was one day he came in and he left without anything. It really struck me, because I was so used to seeing him come in and then at least an hour later he'd show up at the desk with a big stack of books and a grin on his face. 

But that day was so, so different. He'd been browsing for so long I'd almost forgotten he was there, and then suddenly I saw him practically run past the desk and out the door, empty-handed. He didn't say anything when he left, either. He looked pale, too.

He was in his usual good spirits when he came in, he stopped to say hi before he started to look around like he always did. I thought maybe he'd gotten some bad news, like there was an emergency, from what he told me about his brother it seemed pretty likely that something bad had happened to him and he needed Roman's help.

That's kind of macabre, I know, I can't explain why that's where my mind went, but it seemed like the only thing that made it make sense.

I was worried for him, especially since he didn't come back for a few weeks.

When he did come back, he was still paler than usual, but a different kind of pale. Like, there's the kind that comes from fear or shock, and then there's the kind that comes from shutting yourself up in your house with all the curtains drawn for weeks and not seeing the sun at all.

It looked to me like the second kind. I should know, my roommate almost never goes out during the day and she's so chalky you'd swear she was a vampire. Oh, I really hope she doesn't read the stuff on your website. She probably doesn't, this kind of stuff would absolutely give her nightmares, but just in case she does, Hester, please know that I said all of that with the utmost love and respect.

And I know you hate it when I call you a vampire, I know, I'm sorry, it just slipped out. Probably because this whole thing has been so--

LOGAN: Yes, please get back to the actual statement, if you would.

IDA: Sorry, I talk more when I'm nervous. And the way Roman acted when I last saw him made me so nervous, and I feel like I'm right back there behind the library desk with him waving that book at me. So I'm nervous all over again, which means I might ramble a bit.

LOGAN: Understood. I hope you do not mind if I interrupt again, should you start to get 'off track' again.

IDA: Oh, yeah, that's fine. I should've brought my girlfriend with me, she's so good at helping me focus. Well, now I know better for next time. Not that I want there to be a next time. That book was creepy.

Roman was creepy.

I'd never seen him so... intense. He came right up to the desk, and he put this unlabeled book down in front of me. "The Boneturner's Tale" was the title. He said he found it on one of the back shelves, and he needed to know where it came from. He didn't seem to be unhappy, but he was agitated.

It wasn't in our database, I searched. I told him so, but he wasn't having any of it, so I tried looking for it online. There was almost no information on it, and the little that I did find wasn't good enough for Roman, apparently, because he took the book and left without saying another word.

The whole time, he was wearing this baggy old hoodie with the hood up. Now, I knew he was 'between jobs', but I'd never seen him looking so... disheveled before. And it was strange, the hoodie didn't seem like it fit quite right. There were all these weird lumps in it, I saw them when he turned to leave. I thought I saw one move, actually.

I did a little more digging after he left, and I found some creepy urban legend about the book. Apparently it can give the reader magic powers, or something like them. There's a story about it from just over a hundred years ago, connected to some old serial killer. He removed the bones from each of his victims, and he... made stuff out of them, sort of.

He was a carpenter or something, I guess, and essentially, he hid the bones, worked them into the furnishings of his house--every drawer or door handle in there was made of the bones of his victims.

And then there was the story of a woman from about eighty years ago, a pianist, whose piano keys were made out of human bones--they only discovered that particular fact recently, but they were able to trace the bones back to a bunch of missing persons cases. The article on it also mentioned that _that book_ was found among her possessions.

To be honest, I don't know whether or not I believe that the book really does have some kind of magic or supernatural properties, but I do know that it's connected to some bad stuff, and Roman seemed really affected by it, and my sibling mentioned this site when I told them about the whole thing.

LOGAN: It appears that you have already done quite a bit of research on this book. Would you mind sharing the links to those articles you mentioned?

IDA: Oh, for sure, anything I can do to help, I'll do it. I'm keeping an eye on the local news, too. So far I haven't noticed anything like what the articles described in terms of weird disappearances, but...

There was a weird injury this guy got while he was out shopping, and the interview was vague on the details but apparently just before it happened he bumped into another guy that was wearing a hoodie and carrying a book, and I can't help but think...

LOGAN: I understand. If you do find any further information related to this book, please let us know.

IDA: Will do. Thanks for taking me seriously. I was sure you were going to say this was all a product of my 'overactive imagination'!

LOGAN: ...Yes, well, that is not an approach that I favor. Not anymore, at least.

[Recording ends]

_The articles mentioned in the above statement can be found here and here. The news interview seems to have been taken down from the station's website. Logan has been unable to contact Roman Kingsley directly to ask about the book, but was able to leave a voicemail at his home address. Ida requested that the library not be contacted for further inquiries--apparently, her own queries have been firmly denied, and she suggested that any outside questions would likely reflect back on her, with negative consequences._

* * *

**Remus Kingsley, 04-01-18**

[Recording begins]

REMUS: One thing you should know, before I get into it, is that this isn't going to sound all that... supernatural, in the traditional sense. It is pretty [censored] freaky. But it's not, like, spooky ghost [censored]. You know?

LOGAN: ...Please clarify.

REMUS: I just sort of assumed it was steroid abuse, or a bad allergic reaction, or just some weird mysterious illness, or maybe I was finally going off the deep end and just hallucinating the freaky parts, but then I found your website, and I read the other stuff about Roman--and hey, have you got any news about Virgil since you did your investigation--

LOGAN: That is not pertinent to your statement, Remus, therefore, kindly leave all questions about your ex-boyfriend off of this recording.

REMUS: Good to know you're still boring as [censored]. Why did I ever try to set you up with Roman? That was clearly destined to fail! And not just because Roman's apparently turned into a cross between Elastigirl and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and now there isn't even a contest as to which one of us is the handsome twin.

LOGAN: I am choosing to ignore most of that. Now, speaking of Roman...?

REMUS: Yes! Okay. As I was saying, I thought it was weird, but nothing to write home about. Not that I'm on speaking terms with the family, anyway. But when I read the other statements, it completely recontextualized everything that happened the other night.

LOGAN: And what, exactly, happened?

REMUS: Well, I've been trying to get out more, get back into the dating game, all that jazz. So I've been staying out late on occasion, not really getting anywhere in terms of getting laid, but, y'know, having fun all the same.

I was at a bar a couple nights ago. I'd had a few drinks, as one does when they're at a bar. But I was sober enough and the place was close enough to my apartment that I figured I'd walk back, once it became clear that the hot guy I had my eye on that night was as straight as the stick up his [censored].

I was about two blocks away from my place when I saw him. Well, I didn't know it was him at first. Can you imagine? Not recognizing your own twin brother...

To be fair, it was dark, and he had his back to me, but I think even if I could've seen his face I wouldn't have been able to tell it was Roman, because frankly, his face looked like it had been peeled off, liquidized, and then slapped back on while it was still re-solidifying.

I recognized the hoodie first, actually. It was one of Virgil's, but he left it behind when he left _me_ , and he never asked for it back, so I kept it. I wore it around all the time, because it turns out I'm sentimental as [censored]. Except I forgot it at Roman's place, apparently, and he just... Claimed it as his own, like he used to do with my math homework when we were kids. That little [censored] [ _very_ censored] [oh, _so_ censored]--

LOGAN: Remus, could we please return to the matter at hand?

REMUS: [sighing] Fine. Sorry. It just really bothered me. It wasn't his hoodie, it was ours-- _mine_. It was mine.

[silence]

LOGAN: I see. I... I miss Virgil as well, Remus.

REMUS: Oh, I--yeah. Of course, jeez. It's been... weird without him.

LOGAN: Would you like to stop the recording? You can always write your statement down and email it to us later.

REMUS: No, no, we're already here, we've gotten this far in, we may as well keep going.

LOGAN: Understood.

REMUS: Where were we again? Shit, right, it was the hoodie. We--I saw Virgil's hoodie. I figured it was Roman, and I figured by the way he was hunched over that something was wrong. My first thought was that he'd gone out and gotten wasted and now he was puking his guts out in. Alone in an alley. Wearing my ex-boyfriend's hoodie.

Our last phone call was a rough one. We don't get together face-to-face very often nowadays, because the last time I saw Roman, before the incident, I gave him a concussion when we got into a fight after he insulted my... you know what, it's not important. The point is, we have--we had?--a volatile relationship, and it's easier to suppress the urge to throttle each other when we're not in the same room.

The only time we managed to get together on our own without any murder attempts was right after Virgil...

[silence]

LOGAN: Remus?

REMUS: Right, right. Okay, back to the phone call. It was soon enough after the breakup that I was still feeling like dog [censored] that got [okay, I'm censoring this because it's just a gross image that I didn't want to inflict on anyone, and I promise whatever you're thinking it is, it's worse--T].

But I wasn't so deep in my own misery that I didn't notice how... _off_ Roman was.

And he _was_ off. Like, not his usual little baby tantrums when he gets passed up for a gallery spot or doesn't get the birthday gift he wanted. He was distracted and jumpy, and I could swear I heard the sound of bones breaking in the background--yes, I know what that sounds like, because I was a stupid reckless kid and I was too fast and too sneaky for my parents to stop me from doing things like trying to hang glide off the roof.

Obviously I asked him what the sound was, and that's when he got really evasive. I mean, if he'd just brushed it off, I would've assumed it was just one of those things, y'know, my ears playing tricks on me, it happens.

But he got so defensive, and he was so obviously desperate to change the subject that I tried to push it, because that's what we do--Roman and I, I mean. We push and poke and prod until the other one breaks and then we fight, it's a [censored] coping mechanism, but it's ours.

He... Didn't rise to the bait the way I thought he would, when I asked if he was in the process of disposing of a corpse. It was clearly meant to be a joke, but he sounded scared, so I changed the subject, and he made some excuse to hang up pretty quickly after that.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure that disposing of a corpse was actually what he was doing, based on his reaction and, y'know, what we know now.

But like I said, I've never had the greatest self-preservation instincts, so when I saw him in a dark alley I walked right up to him, alone and still a little buzzed, and definitely not thinking about that last weird phone call.

And then he turned around.

The first thing I noticed was that his face was wrong. It didn't look like ours--like mine, any more. The jawline was different, and the nose, like he'd somehow altered his entire facial structure. But the worst part was how absolutely, utterly blank his eyes were. He didn't even register that I was there until I screamed.

I should clarify, I wasn't screaming because of him. Yet. I was screaming because there was a dead pigeon in his hand, and its ribs were sticking out in a way that I'm pretty sure ribs can't. It looked like he'd been dissecting it, or something, his hands were all bloody. And while I love all things gory and gross when it comes to movies, I was not [censored] prepared to see that kind of thing up-close.

So I screamed, and it was like the sound snapped him to attention. Actually I'm pretty sure I heard an actual snap when his head shot up to look at me. He swore, and he reached out, and I could tell he was going to do something violent. It might not have been the face I knew but I still know those eyes and that voice.

I smacked his arm away, a little harder than I intended, I guess, and it hit the wall. Something in his hand definitely broke, I could see it in the way his fingers twitched. And then I watched his hand fix itself.

LOGAN: Excuse me, it did what?

REMUS: I know, right? This is where it gets super weird. I literally saw the bones in his hand rearrange themselves. Except there were definitely more bones in there than there should have been.

LOGAN: That is... not physically possible.

REMUS: You would think so, but there are a lot of things that shouldn't be physically possible that are. Like, you've seen contortionists, right? That [censored] is wild, and I love it. Well, I used to, then I saw my brother do something that should've broken his spine while he was, I assume, actively trying to kill me. Let me tell you, that's really put a damper on my enjoyment of weird circus acts.

LOGAN: Okay. So. You saw his broken hand repair itself. And then he injured you?

REMUS: What? No. He tried to, but we didn't, I mean, he didn't leave any lasting injuries--

LOGAN: Then why the bandages, Remus?

REMUS: Oh. [laughs] Yeah, that's like, barely related to this. Broken glass from my terrarium. I was shaking pretty badly after I got away, and not paying attention, so. Here we are.

LOGAN: You have a terrarium? What do you--sorry, that is quite a digression from the topic. I would be interested to hear about what you keep in your terrarium later, if you would like to talk after the interview concludes.

REMUS: Um, I probably shouldn't stick around here too much longer, actually. I'm not feeling too great.

LOGAN: Ah. I am sorry to hear it. I suppose we should attempt to finish this quickly, then, so that you can return home and rest.

REMUS: Yeah, good plan. Back to Roman, then, huh? Okay. His hand fixed itself, and then he took a swing at me. It wasn't that strong of a hit, I don't think, but my entire skeleton shook so hard from it that it felt like said skeleton was trying to forcibly eject itself from my body. Weird sensation, not the most unpleasant I've felt, but it still tripped me up enough that I fell down.

As I was getting up, I grabbed... _something_ , I don't remember what, but it was made of glass, and I threw it at him. He tried to twist around to avoid it, and like I said, that move should've broken his spine, he was like the Salvador Dali version of an Escher Girl, it was [censored] up.

I ran, and he didn't follow me, for whatever reason. I stayed up all night in case he came to the apartment, but he never showed. I haven't called him since, and he hasn't called me either.

LOGAN: And you did not report the attack on your person to the police? Even though you suspect Roman of further sinister dealings?

REMUS: No, no, they would've thought my story was crazy, especially since I have no proof. Like I said, he didn't really injure me, and when I went back to check that alley the next day it looked totally normal.

LOGAN: I see. It sounds like you have already done some follow-up research, so, is there anything further that you would like the Archive to do with this case?

REMUS: Eh, do what you want. I just wanted to get, uh, get the story out there... Are we done? Can we--can I go?

LOGAN: ...I suppose so. I hope you feel better soon, Rem--[sound of footsteps, door closing] ...And he has already left.

[Recording ends]

_Logan was unable to investigate further, as Remus did not provide details on the location of the alleyway in which the encounter occurred, and all attempts to contact him for the information failed. It seems that he has moved out of his apartment and essentially 'gone off the grid' since his interview. Roman continues to ignore our phone calls, and Logan is understandably reluctant to press the issue or to take more direct action._

_And now, a message from Logan:_

_Remus, if you still follow our website, if you are reading this, please contact one of us to let us know that you are alive and safe. I have already had to report one of my friends as missing, I do not wish to have to repeat the process. I know that we are not particularly close, nevertheless, I am deeply concerned and would greatly appreciate it if you would send word of your status. --Logan_

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	4. Worm Husbandry (Multiple Accounts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statements of Virgil Storm and various untraceable email addresses presumed to belong to Remus Kingsley, regarding an infestation of unidentified worms. The interview with Virgil was conducted by Logan and transcribed as always by Thomas, and the emails were compiled and edited by Thomas.

**Anonymous, via email, 06-09-18**

Hello, Logan. You wanted to hear from us, and we should probably explain ourselves. The colony mostly thinks it's a bad idea, but doing things that seemed like bad ideas is what brought us here, and we're quite happy with the outcome, so we'll tell you everything now. Congratulations!

We're sorry it took so long to contact you, by the way. Finding a nest took a while, and accessing the internet is not something we cared to do until after we were sure of our safety.

We're also sorry for the confusion and concern we caused you with the bandages, but we couldn't have you asking questions about the colony at the time. We were too new, and too afraid. So were you, it seems. What an interesting coincidence!

You wanted to ask what I was keeping in the terrarium, didn't you, Logan? It was a good home for the colony, for a little while, when more and more of them started showing up in the apartment following the call of our hearts. But soon enough they wanted more. We wanted more. The layer of glass separating us was a terrible, cruel barrier, but it's gone now.

We kept each other close as we could, after Virgil left, though we still didn't let ourselves touch. We made music together. Our host spoke to us so gently, they listened to me so sweetly--and we fell in love with a speed and force and inevitability reminiscent of a skydiver who only realizes they have no parachute after they've jumped out of the plane.

I had some of the colony with me the night Roman attacked us. I didn't like leaving them, you see, so I kept them in a little jar in my coat pocket. When I fell, the jar broke.

I told you I threw something at him. I didn't. I froze. It was the colony who swarmed him and kept him distracted so I could get away. They protected me.

They had claimed me for their own a long time ago, you see. To them, I was already part of the colony even then.

I went back the next morning and they were gone. It wasn't all the colony, of course, but enough that I felt the loss. And I knew I couldn't be apart from the colony any longer.

The terrarium didn't break. I opened it, and let the colony out. Well, perhaps it's more accurate to say that I let them in. Inside me, that is.

See for yourself what we hid under the bandages when we came to talk to you, Archivist. Not wounds, no. There was no pain, only joy. Unity.

It was a shame to have to hide, when we met you after our transformation, but we are out of the cocoon and free now to show you what true beauty is. To us, at least. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Remus says, though we are all in agreement on what is beautiful, and what is beautiful is us. Is this.

[at this point the sender attached a photo of what appears to be small silver worms poking out of small holes in a live person's arm. I won't show it here so that readers with trypophobia or other phobias that might be triggered because of this image can avoid it, but it's in a link at the end of the statement if you really want to see it--T]

We realize you may not understand why we've done this to ourselves, why we've housed ourselves within Remus' flesh, burrowed into his heart and his mind. But we don't need you to understand. We just need you to know that we're happy as we are, and we need you to know not to come after us.

When you do manage to get in contact with Roman (when, not if, Remus is certain he'll come around eventually if only for the attention), he'll certainly tell you what we're capable of if you threaten us in any way.

The colony and the host have to stay together to survive, you see, and we very much want to survive, all of us. That's why we left the apartment, why we threw away the cell phone and everything else that could track us. We can't have anyone separating us.

He's _ours_. And we will do whatever is necessary to protect him.

Kisses!

_The attached photograph can be seen here. Warnings: insects (maggots, we assume), open wounds, trypophobia._

* * *

**Remus(?), via email, 10-28-18**

Hello again, Archivist.

Silly of us to tell you only half the story, wasn't it? Especially when we promised you the whole thing. We were a little distracted. Divided. We've pulled ourselves together now.

You, on the other hand, have no excuse for trying to track us down. Or was that your colleague? Either way, that's a strike against you and any further action will be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. The colony could do with a fresh corpse, so don't give us an excuse to use yours.

And please give Virgil our congratulations on his new phase of life. We read his interview on your lovely website, and we were glad to know that he's alive and well in the arms of the Spiral. It suits him, we think.

We have Virgil to thank for our own transformation, you know. He introduced us, in a sense.

Of course, it was Remus that made the decision to keep us. To invite us in. To love us.

This is a love story, Logan. Not a traditional one, but we're proud of ourselves anyway.

We found each other shortly before Virgil left to live with you. He and I (the host only being an "I" at that point) were exploring. Urban spelunking, I think is what Virgil called it. It was the basement of this abandoned building, [here the sender listed the address, which I am choosing to leave out. We don't want more people infected by whatever this is.--T].

I, Remus, went down the stairs alone. And there, after a few minutes of searching--there was the colony. A beautiful writhing mass of worms.

We wanted each other immediately. Something just... clicked, like a dislocated limb being snapped back into place. Sudden and sharp and _good_.

Virgil saw the colony back then, too, when he came after me, but he wasn't for us, we could tell. He wasn't pleased when worms started appearing in our apartment. Our, in this case, meaning Remus' and Virgil's, not the colony. He and I argued about it. We argued about a lot of things.

And eventually Virgil left, as you know, but the colony didn't, and I didn't want them to. I would've been alone without them. I'm not good at being alone, that's why I had to do what I did. Or should that be 'what we did'? I mean, we all wanted the same thing, and we all made the same decision, in the end. And we are a 'we', now.

As we said. This is a love story. The colony loves its host, and the host loves his colony.

And you? You don't need to interfere any further.

Toodles!

* * *

**Virgil Storm, 11-02-18**

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: Thank you for coming, Virgil. I am glad that you agreed to participate in another interview. Eventually.

VIRGIL: [slight static underneath] Okay, it's hard to respond to stuff on time when time doesn't work the way it's supposed to around you. Gimme a break.

LOGAN: Yes, of course. I also understand that the subject of Remus is still uncomfortable for you.

VIRGIL: ...Yeah, I'll be honest, that didn't really help to get me motivated to text you back.

LOGAN: As I said, I understand, and again, thank you for agreeing to do this, Virgil. Really.

VIRGIL: Sure. Whatever. If it even helps.

LOGAN: It should at least help to clarify some of the points mentioned in the email and verify that the sender is indeed Remus. I would like to compare your account of the night that Remus and yourself went on your 'urban exploration' outing to the description here, see what can be confirmed, what further details can be added. The email was frustratingly vague on several points.

VIRGIL: That'd be Remus' flair for the dramatic. Although he usually enjoys going into gory detail about stuff like, y'know, worms eating through your skin.

LOGAN: Indeed. The accompanying picture was worth a thousand words in terms of 'gory detail', however.

VIRGIL: Ugh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten about _that_. But those are definitely the same worms we found in that musty old basement.

I'm pretty sure the place was torn down sometime during my, uh, absence from this plane of reality. I saw a sign when we went in about it being marked for demolition, or something, and I checked the address and it was an empty lot, so. Either it was torn down, or it's in Distortion-space, and I haven't noticed any additions to my personal plane of existence--

LOGAN: Distortion-space?

VIRGIL: Oh, yeah, that's, uh. Me. Basically. Like, my state of being, when I'm at home. And also the house itself. The Distortion.

LOGAN: Did you come up with the name?

VIRGIL: No, the house told me. Well, I told me, technically, because the house is me and I am the house.

LOGAN: Ah. I think I understand now what Remus' email was talking about in regards to your "new phase of life". Your situation and his do appear to have some similarities.

VIRGIL: Mine is definitely not a love story, thank you. I think it was more a case of the Distortion holding me hostage, then developing Lima syndrome and basically adopting me.

Not a great start to things, sure, but because of that, I can literally redecorate the entire house with my mind. And that's kind of awesome. Also I've stopped getting lost in there, because I can just rearrange the layout of the whole place too, so that's been pretty sweet.

But, uh, we should get back to Remus, I guess.

We split up pretty quickly, there was a lot of ground to cover and neither of us wanted to stay too long--we weren't technically trespassing, Remus had gotten us permission from the building owners somehow, but we knew that the situation looked pretty shady from the outside, and we really didn't want to have to deal with the cops.

The plan was we'd divide and conquer, Remus would work from the bottom up and I'd go from the top down, and we'd meet in the middle to go through the rest of the rooms together. We had walkie-talkies--shut up, I know it's nerdy and outdated, but we needed a way to call each other quickly and we both had really shitty cell phone plans at the time. Oh, sorry. Really, uh, _crappy_ phone plans.

LOGAN: You do not have to censor yourself on anyone's account.

VIRGIL: But I read some other statements where--

LOGAN: Oh, yes. We had received a few complaints, and Thomas went back in to edit and censor certain statements where the use of profanity or other such language was especially frequent. Ultimately, however, we both agreed it was rather nonsensical to attempt to 'protect' our readers from occasional and minimal cursing when the subject matter we often deal with can already be rather graphic or dark in nature.

VIRGIL: Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, you can't just censor the whole statement.

LOGAN: Precisely. Please continue, whenever you are ready.

VIRGIL: Can do. So... We were supposed to keep checking in with each other at regular intervals, because. Well. You know me, I wanted to take every precaution to make sure nothing went terribly wrong.

I shouldn't have split us up. It was a stupid idea, but Remus was convinced it'd be fine, and I didn't want to argue, and--well. A part of me kind of wanted him to get in some kind of trouble just so I could say 'I told you so'.

Yeah, I know, that's... not a great thought to have about your boyfriend, to say the least. Obviously we were already in a rough patch before the whole thing with the worms.

[silence]

Um, where was I--right, the check-ins. Remus didn't respond the second time I checked in. That was, like, not even fifteen minutes after we'd split up, that's how soon it was.

LOGAN: Yes, Virgil, I understand how the passage of time works.

VIRGIL: [distorted] Okay, just because I live in a house that doesn't ascribe to the concept of linear time--

LOGAN: I apologize, that was an unnecessary remark on my part. I was only attempting to highlight the redundancy of that last sentence, I did not realize this was a sensitive issue.

VIRGIL: No, dude, you're fine. I'm just wound up today. More than usual, I mean.

I stopped by Remus' apartment before coming over like you asked, and it, um. Brought up a lot of memories. Also it was really unsettling in there. Not my kind of unsettling, which was... unsettling.

LOGAN: You do not have to speak about that if it upsets you. I think we ought to leave that portion of your statement for later, anyways.

VIRGIL: Yeah, sorry, I'm getting off-track.

LOGAN: What happened when Remus did not respond? What did you do?

VIRGIL: I went to check on him, obviously, and I kept trying to get him on the walkie-talkie while I went over. As I was coming down the stairs to the first floor, he finally picked up. He said he'd found something and he wanted to show me.

So I kept heading downstairs, and when I got into the basement--well, first of all, it was a really big space, so jot that down.

LOGAN: But this is an audio recording.

VIRGIL: ...Uh, yeah, I was just--y'know what, never mind.

LOGAN: Thomas is the one who transcribes--

VIRGIL: Never mind, Logan.

LOGAN: Very well. I apologize for the interruption.

VIRGIL: Dude, you're fine. You're actually really good at this whole interview thing. I mean, _I_ think you are. I don't have a great frame of reference for this stuff, but still.

LOGAN: Oh. Well. Thank you, Virgil.

VIRGIL: Yeah, yeah, don't get all mushy on me. I'm just saying, you don't need to worry about professionalism or whatever, you're doing fine. I'm the one going off on tangents.

LOGAN: [laughs] That you are.

VIRGIL: Oh, damn it, I'm doing it again. I swear I don't mean to, it's just... weird? Talking about Remus? Like, knowing what happened to him after I left and what those worm-maggot-things did to him. What they _are_ doing. I don't know.

LOGAN: I am not sure either of us can know exactly what is happening to him, but you would certainly understand it better than I.

VIRGIL: Yeah. It took me a while to find him, because like I said, the basement was big, and there were a lot of old shelves and machinery and junk that made it hard to figure out where he was or how to get to him. When I did...

He was transfixed. Just staring at this giant... _pile_ of little silver worms. It took me a moment to figure out what it was, but when I did, I was like, dude, that's gross. And I was loud about it. Remus turned to look at me when I spoke, like he'd only just noticed I was there. And he asked me if I heard the music.

There was this look in his eyes that really unsettled me. It felt so familiar, and yet--totally alien. I couldn't place it at the time, but... I reviewed the video footage I recorded from that night. I never posted it, but I saved it anyways.

That look? That was how he used to look at me, but... darker. More manic. Almost... _hungry_.

And yeah, the worms and the way he was acting all freaked me out, so I dragged him out of there and we cut the trip short. I told him we'd go back, but I had no intention of ever going near that place again, and especially not with him.

Then those _things_ started showing up in the apartment. It was just a few at a time, in the shower, on the kitchen counter--but it was more than enough to set me on edge.

I kept trying to convince Remus that we needed to talk to the building super, or call an exterminator, or maybe move somewhere else--anything that I thought would get rid of the maggots, worms, whatever they are.

I didn't understand why he kept pushing back against all my suggestions, and he didn't seem to understand what my problem even _was_ , and that's when things between us turned really ugly.

You know the rest from my point of view. I came to stay with you while I sorted out my own place to live, and, uh. You've got my statement about the house, so.

LOGAN: Indeed. Out of curiosity, when you returned from your excursion into the, um, Distortion--

VIRGIL: --Technically I'm still in there at all times, actually, but I know what you mean--

LOGAN: --right. When you... emerged, then. Had Remus sent you any messages?

VIRGIL: A couple drunk texts from that first month that I was gone. Nothing suspicious, nothing weird. As normal as you can get for Remus and I and our whole situation at the time.

LOGAN: I see. And what did his apartment look like?

VIRGIL: Not great. He's not getting the security deposit back, there are all kind of weird stains and I'm pretty sure there was mold growing in a couple places. Oh, and big surprise, no broken glass. Like the email said, he didn't break the terrarium.

LOGAN: He was clearly not living there, as we inferred.

VIRGIL: Definitely not. Lack of cleanliness aside, there wasn't any fresh food in the kitchen, and all the non-perishable stuff was gone. So were about half his clothes. And his violin. But his phone and his laptop were still there. So yeah, like you thought, he's off the grid. Mostly. I don't know how he sent you that email.

LOGAN: I have a few theories, although I do not intend on investigating further. Whatever is possessing Remus has made it clear that any attempts to locate him could endanger his well-being and ours.

VIRGIL: [distorted] That's not how it works, Archivist. There's a reason the Flesh Hive compared his situation to mine. It isn't possession, it's... a marriage, of a sort.

LOGAN: Flesh Hive?

VIRGIL: [echoing slightly] That's what he is now. That's his title, just like yours is 'Archivist' and mine is 'Distortion'. Apparently. I don't know, I get information like that beamed in whenever the rest of my consciousness decides I need it, so I literally just learned this stuff.

LOGAN: Fascinating. But why do I have a title? As far as I am aware, I have not had any supernatural encounters in the same manner as the two of you.

VIRGIL: ...Yeah, I got nothing for you on that front. Sorry.

LOGAN: Perhaps it is merely because of the nature of my work. In either case, looking for Remus--the Flesh Hive formerly known as Remus...

VIRGIL: --Okay, I hate what you've done there.

LOGAN: I am attempting to provide clarity, thank you--searching for this Flesh Hive is bound to put anyone involved unduly in harm's way. I would rather wait for Remus to contact us again. And I do hope that he does, because while your testimony was useful, Virgil, I still do not feel that I have been given the 'full picture', as it were.

Of course, I do not need a literal illustration, this is an audio-slash-written medium. While more visual references are always helpful, they are ultimately unnecessary as we already have a very clear image of the worms from Remus' photograph.

VIRGIL: I don't think you needed to explain that, but okay. Are we done here?

LOGAN: Yes--well, I have a favor to ask of you, actually... Hold on.

[Recording ends]

_So far there have been no more emails from the Flesh Hive also known as Remus, but we at the Archives will of course keep our readers updated on this case. Please report any sightings of Remus and/or the worms to us either by leaving a comment on this post or sending us an email through our Contact link below._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	5. Hopelessly Crushed/Patton, 10-12-19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Patton Hart, regarding strange accidents that seem to coincide with his... backyard renovations? None of us are entirely sure how to describe what he is doing outside of calling it some kind of burial rite, but he really didn't like that term, and we wanted to be respectful, so we're at a loss here. Interview conducted by Logan and transcribed as always by Thomas.

[Recording begins]

PATTON: Thank you so much for coming, Logan, I'm sorry to put you out--

LOGAN: You are doing nothing of the sort, Patton. This is not how I have been operating when it comes to in-person interviews, true, but it was hardly an arduous task to drive here.

PATTON: I know you had a hard time setting up your equipment, though. I really do need to get some spring cleaning done.

LOGAN: It is a little... cramped in here.

PATTON: I mean, I like to think of it as nice and cozy, but I know it's not as pleasant for company. Say, did you want--

LOGAN: You have already offered me something to drink, and something to eat.

PATTON: Oh, right.

LOGAN: Are you uncomfortable with me recording your statement? Is that why you seem to be stalling?

PATTON: I-I'm not stalling! [laughs] I mean, I called you all the way over here so I could talk about... whatever it is that's going on, I can't say I understand it--so why would I be stalling, Logan?

LOGAN: Apologies. In that case, you may begin.

PATTON: Wh-uh, just like that?

LOGAN: Patton.

PATTON: [sighs] You still know me pretty well, don't you? I guess I haven't changed that much since college. Hey, remember when we--

LOGAN: Patton, whatever it was that made you call me is clearly weighing on your mind. I could hear it in your voice when you called. Please tell me what it is that has happened to you.

PATTON: Nothing's happened to me. That's the thing. I was nowhere near any of those places, those people--but I can feel it, Logan, it was me, somehow, I made those things happen, or at least I'm starting to think that I did.

LOGAN: ...I am definitely going to need more detail than that.

PATTON: Of course. Right. I should--okay. This is why I asked you to come here. I needed to show you, because I don't know how to explain it without showing you... Can you move your equipment, though?

LOGAN: I can bring the microphones with us, if whatever you need to show me is nearby.

PATTON: It's, um. It's just the backyard.

LOGAN: Then let us proceed.

[sound of muffled footsteps, something hitting the floor]

PATTON: Oh, shoot! I'll have to pick those up later.

LOGAN: Do you not have room on your bookshelves for those?

PATTON: Not right now, I don't. I have more stuff than places to store it.

...And here we are! Let me just--

[sound of curtains being drawn]

LOGAN: ...Um. Why is it all dirt?

PATTON: See, I had to show you. Otherwise it wouldn't have made sense!

LOGAN: You are... still not making sense, Patton.

PATTON: But wha--oh, oh, I haven't actually explained it yet! [laughs] I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Uh, let's go back to the living room.

[sound of muffled footsteps]

PATTON: Careful, don't trip on the books... Okay. You settled in?

LOGAN: I am. Please proceed with your explanation.

PATTON: So the backyard is all dirt because it was like that when I moved in, and--see, I had all these plans about what I was gonna do with it, but I started using it for something else instead.

It's kind of a therapeutic thing, see--when I get frustrated, or upset, I channel those feelings into an object, like I write it all out on a piece of paper, or I find something associated with the cause of my negative feelings. And then I bury it in the backyard.

I know, I know, that sounds a little wacky, but it works! I always feel better after. I wanted to make sure I could keep doing that without digging up any grass or flowers or anything, so I just left the backyard as plain old dirt.

LOGAN: I see. Well, so far I am following you quite well, although none of this sounds particularly supernatural in nature so far.

PATTON: Exactly! It should be perfectly harmless, it shouldn't be connected to anything bad or spooky, but it... might be. Here--hold on--

[sounds of paper rustling]

PATTON: Aha! Look at this newspaper clipping.

LOGAN: A house that collapsed in your neighborhood last year. The owner was crushed to death. What does this have to do with your backyard?

PATTON: I dug a hole for him.

LOGAN: Pardon?

PATTON: I didn't like him. He was rude to everyone in the neighborhood. He was loud at the worst times, and he never apologized. He was mean to his dog, and he never picked up after the poor thing. So one night I wrote down his name and everything I thought about him and I buried it.

That was the night before his house collapsed.

LOGAN: ...I understand wanting to blame yourself if there were ill feelings--

PATTON: No, you don't understand! It happened again! Twice, at least! 

[sounds of paper rustling]

LOGAN: This is the office building where you used to work, is it not? But the building only caved in, it was not a full collapse.

PATTON: I was so upset when they fired me. I photocopied my severance letter and I buried it. Everyone who signed it died under the rubble, Logan, that still fits the pattern.

LOGAN: Two incidents are not a pattern.

PATTON: When I tried to start my own business--

LOGAN: Successfully.

PATTON: Not at first. I was denied a loan when I tried to get money to buy a space for the bakery the first time around. The woman at the bank who turned me down, I buried her business card. This is her, this is what happened to her.

[sounds of paper rustling]

LOGAN: Caught in a cave-in while spelunking, died of suffocation. It fits the pattern, as you say, but only to an extent. Is it possible that your mind is seeking connections where there are none, in order to rationalize these accidents?

PATTON: I don't know, that's why I called you!

LOGAN: Have you considered seeing a therapist, Patton?

PATTON: Okay, I thought you were going to figure this all out for me, not--

LOGAN: I am not trying to belittle you, I apologize if it seemed that way. I just want to eliminate all other possibilities before treating this as a supernatural phenomenon. You understand that a connection between this burial ritual you have--

PATTON: Please don't call it that.

LOGAN: Apologies. But the connection between your actions and these accidents is immensely difficult to prove. That is why I am... disinclined to ascribe these events to some sort of supernatural force.

At present I cannot draw a definite conclusion as to what is causing these incidents, but that does not mean I do not believe that you have a valid reason to feel the way you do. Whether that reason is psychological or supernatural is what we must determine.

To that end, I am going to look more closely into these news articles. For your part, Patton, I think it would help my research to send me a detailed description of what this... therapeutic exercise entails, and if you could dig up the items you buried in relation to these cases and send photos or scans--

PATTON: Scan them? Oh, gosh, I'm terrible with technology, but I'll try. If... I can find them. I've, uh... I've buried a lot of stuff, Logan.

LOGAN: Yes, I gathered as much. Whatever you can retrieve would be much appreciated, as long as it does not take up too much of your time. I understand you are very busy with the bakery right now and I do not want to add to your stress.

PATTON: You could never! Don't you worry about me, I'll figure it all out. And you'll keep me posted on what you can find, won't you?

LOGAN: I shall contact you as soon as I have anything worth sharing.

PATTON: Thanks again for doing this. Did you want to stay for dinner, Logan?

LOGAN: No, thank you. I am afraid I already have plans tonight. But perhaps another time, once you have, ah, organized some of this clutter. No offense.

PATTON: Oh! Right. I've gotten too used to all this stuff getting in the way, huh... Here! Let me help you with your equipment. It's the least I can do, for making you go to all this trouble.

LOGAN: As I told you when we began, Patton, it was no trouble. This is my job.

PATTON: Does it get to you? This job investigating creepy, dark stuff?

LOGAN: Sometimes, yes, there are stories that unsettle me. But knowing the truth, knowing what is 'out there', brings me comfort far more often than it disturbs. Knowledge is power, as the saying goes. Why do you ask?

PATTON: I don't think I agree with you. I think maybe sometimes it's better not knowing, maybe not safer, but happier. I-I think I don't want to know what you find out from the articles, Logan.

LOGAN: ...Okay, Patton, I am going to stop recording, and then we can talk about this properly.

[Recording ends]

_Patton has not yet sent along the requested materials, though he tells us that he intends to do so as soon as he has the time. He pointedly redirected the conversation when asked whether or not he had continued his 'ritual' over the past few weeks._

_Logan did find one more connection between each incident mentioned in the statement aside from Patton's emotional attachments--that each location had been deemed structurally sound prior to the accidents, and investigators could find no concrete reason for each collapse. He intends to visit Patton at home again at the earliest opportunity in order to follow up and get more information about the 'ritual' itself._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	6. We Return To The Dirt (multiple accounts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A selection from Patton's audio journal and Logan's field notes, both relating to disturbances in Patton Hart's home caused by seemingly supernatural forces.

**Audio journal of Patton Hart, 11-30-19**

[Recording begins]

PATTON: --on? Oh! I think I got it! Gosh, I can't believe this thing is still in working order.

This is why it's important to keep stuff that's in good condition. You never know when an old tape recorder might come in handy!

[a thud, clattering sound]

PATTON: ...And I knocked over another box. I'll get it later. Right now I'm journaling. This is my audio journal! I was gonna do a regular old writing journal to help me de-stress, instead of... Well, you know.

I've got all these spare notebooks from college, but it felt weird using them for a new purpose. And while I was fishing through my old college stuff I found this tape recorder, so I figured, why not give it a try?

Seriously, it's amazing that this thing still works! Unless it's not recording properly, but that's okay. I think it's more about the act of getting all my thoughts and feelings out there than having it actually recorded.

Now, what do I talk about? Um... I've been trying to do some cleaning lately. I really let this place get dusty, I've just been so busy with work I hadn't even noticed--I went through two of those Swiffer feather duster things so far, and I haven't seen much of a difference. It's a little disheartening, but I guess that'll show me for not staying on top of things, huh?

I've been going through some of the boxes from storage, too, but I can't really bring myself to get rid of any of it. There have been a couple things I managed to give away, but then I just keep finding more stuff. And it's all got too many memories, you know? The good, you wanna keep, and the bad, well... you don't want to give that to anyone else. 

But I can't put them back in storage, because I can't afford to rent it anymore, because I'm running my own business and it's not doing well and I need to save money, but--

VIRGIL: [distorted] Hey.

[Patton screams]

VIRGIL: Ah, shit. My bad, I keep forgetting people aren't supposed to appear out of nowhere.

PATTON: What are you? How did you get into my house, why are you here--

VIRGIL: Whoa, slow down, just breathe. I'm a friend, I think, I was forcibly deposited here by powers beyond my control, and I'm pretty sure that happened because something is wrong with your house. Or because something is in it that shouldn't be. Maybe both.

PATTON: I think I'm going to faint.

VIRGIL: I don't think I could handle that, so please don't.

PATTON: Uh, I'll... try not to?

VIRGIL: Thanks. So what's up?

PATTON: The roof! I make jokes when I'm nervous.

VIRGIL: Wow, okay. Uh... So what I meant was, what's going on with this house? Like, obviously the backyard is all kinds of weird, but it's not the kind of weird I'm used to, and neither is any of whatever's happening inside.

PATTON: I don't know what you mean. It's just a house--I mean, I've kind of been letting it go a bit, but I'm just taking a while to settle in, is all. Frankly, that's a little hurtful, and I don't think it's any of your business anyway, mister.

VIRGIL: ...Right. Okay. Um. You seem to be pretty deep in denial, but, like, you have to at least acknowledge that--please, seriously, _please_ tell me you understand this--it is not normal for a random guy, especially one who looks like me and can do [distorted] _this_ with his voice [normal] to just straight-up appear in your house. You've got to know that I did not arrive here by natural means. You get that, right?

[silence]

PATTON: Yeah, this is a lot. I-I'm not...

VIRGIL: Deep breaths. Take your time. I'd back off, but there's like, no room in here for me to move without knocking something over.

PATTON: I know, I know, I'm sorry--

VIRGIL: Hang on a second. Are you Patton? Logan's friend Patton?

PATTON: Wh-I-Yes, but how do you know Logan? Who are you? How do you know who I am?

VIRGIL: First two questions, not important right now. Logan told me you hadn't gotten back to him about the--

PATTON: Well, no. There's nothing further to investigate on my end. The house is super-messy, but there's nothing super-natural about it.

VIRGIL: ...Sure. Well, since I obviously can't help you, and I get the distinct feeling that something in your house doesn't want me here, I'm gonna go now, and you... keep doing what you're doing, I guess. Maybe hire a cleaning service. No offense.

[static]

PATTON: That was very strange. Note to self--upgrade home security system. And maybe call Logan.

[Recording ends]

* * *

**Logan's field notes, 12-02-19**

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: Two days ago, Virgil called me to request that I checked in with Patton as soon as possible--and to pass along his apologies for bothering Patton in his home. I am currently in Patton's living room, where he has just shared a piece of rather disconcerting information with me that, I confess, have derailed my plans for the afternoon.

PATTON: Gosh, Logan, you sound so... official.

LOGAN: I am aiming for professionalism. This is my job, after all.

PATTON: Should I introduce myself?

LOGAN: No need, Patton. You have already done so in your statement. But I would like to establish a few things before we begin. Namely, these worms that have been appearing around your house. You said that you had not noticed any of these worms before Virgil's visit?

PATTON: No, but I could've just missed seeing them.

LOGAN: Hm. And you didn't notice anything else that was out of the ordinary?

PATTON: I never go in the basement, but I keep seeing the door ajar. Oh, and I was finding it difficult to keep the place clean, but I don't think there's anything too weird about that.

LOGAN: Perhaps not. We shall, I hope, find out once we find the source of this apparent infestation.

[sound of door being unlocked and opened]

PATTON: Well, then, after you. And sorry again about the mess.

LOGAN: It seems to have grown since my last visit.

PATTON: It hasn't really, I've just been shuffling things around, so it looks like there's more but that's only because it's all in one place now.

LOGAN: This does present a slight barrier to our investigation, but since we are focusing on the basement almost exclusively, there should be little issue. Please continue.

[sound of footsteps, door opening, creaking stairs]

PATTON: Now, where's the light switch--

[indistinct hissing]

[Patton screams]

LOGAN: ...Remus?

REMUS: [echoing slightly] Archivist. Gravedigger. What an unpleasant surprise.

LOGAN: Remus, why are you living in Patton's basement?

PATTON: Oh my goodness, what happened to your _face?_ Are you okay?

REMUS: It is warm here, and quiet, and safe, and there is plenty of food. We like the Gravedigger, we like his home, so we made it our home too.

PATTON: The what? You--I don't--what?

REMUS: You smell sweet like dirt and fresh-baked cookies. You sing to yourself when you think no-one is around to hear it. You have a pretty voice and a soft, lovely heart. We like it here, with you.

LOGAN: How long have you been here?

REMUS: Wouldn't you like to know, Archivist?

LOGAN: Flesh Hive, tell me. How long?

[Remus snarls]

REMUS: Weeks, a month, maybe more, we don't know, we haven't been counting the days! Don't ask us things we can't answer, it hurts!

LOGAN: How did you get in?

REMUS: The basement window.

LOGAN: Why here?

REMUS: It called to us. The house sang its siren song because it wanted us here. To keep him company, perhaps.

LOGAN: Clarify.

REMUS: Silly man. You see without observing, you listen without hearing. You think you're a detective, but you're only a witness. There is no explanation we can give that your narrow mind would understand.

PATTON: Hey, hang on, is this why my food kept disappearing?

REMUS: [without echo] Hang on to what?

LOGAN: You knew your food was disappearing? That would've been pertinent information to share _before_ \--

REMUS: [echoing again] The host needed to be fed. The colony feeds itself from the things you buried.

PATTON: What? Why?

REMUS: You wanted them gone, so we ate them. You didn't want to give them to the Archivist, so we gave you an excuse not to. Our way of paying you back for the food we had to take.

PATTON: Okay, well. That was, um... Well, I do appreciate the thought and the effort...

LOGAN: And that is going to be a discussion for later.

PATTON: I was still going to--I didn't ask for--I don't even _know_ this guy or his worms!

REMUS: Oh, but we know _you_ , Patton Hart! 

PATTON: I'm sorry, this is just too much for me to deal with right now. Whether or not you know me, you can't stay here.

REMUS: Wait a minute! If you kick us out we might die of hypothermia. It's a slow and unpleasant death, you know. A lot like suffocation, so I'm told.

PATTON: Look, I just can't have you living in my basement like this. Heck, you probably need to go to a hospital. I can drive you--

[a rattling, gurgling sound]

REMUS: No hospital. No car rides. No charity and kind smiles to lull us into a false sense of security so you can stab us in the back, no thank you.

LOGAN: Patton was not threatening the colony, Remus. He is unaware of your... unique situation.

REMUS: We're not as unique as you think. But he does know what it feels like to be us. He must know, he must feel it too. The love. The _need_. Not in the same form as ours, but it's there. We can smell it underneath the soil. We can hear it in the walls.

PATTON: Um. Okay--Remus, was it? Okay, Remus, do you have somewhere else you can go?

REMUS: Oh, many places. Nowhere as nice as this, of course. Nowhere with the kind of sweet things _you_ make.

PATTON: Well, why don't I give you some gingersnaps for the road, huh?

REMUS: [without echo] Ooh, gingersnaps are my favorite!

PATTON: Great! Let's all go upstairs, I'll get you those cookies, and then you both can be on your way.

REMUS: Ugh, fine, but Logan has to leave first.

LOGAN: I understand you not wanting to be followed, Remus, but I still have business to discuss--

PATTON: You've got a deal. Logan, we'll have that talk another time. I promise. Remus, it was... nice meeting you. Kinda weird, but... yeah, it was nice.

REMUS: Some of the colony could stay here in case you get lonely. Lonely is a terrible thing to be.

PATTON: Oh, you don't have to do that for little old me! Here, why don't we exchange numbers, that way if you need anything...

[unsettling worm noises and footsteps as Patton and Remus' voices fade away]

LOGAN: ...Well, this is an unexpected and slightly disconcerting development. For both Remus and Patton. I am not sure what to make of any of this other than to conclude that my time here was largely unproductive, and my presence unnecessary. As Remus said--I was little more than a witness.

[click]

LOGAN: I have returned home. I am disappointed that no further progress has been made on Patton's case, but I am attempting to take solace in the fact that I at least have more knowledge of Remus' condition, and a possible way to check up on him again. That is, assuming that Patton gave him a real phone number to call, which I do think is likely, given the altruistic nature--

[static]

LOGAN: Virgil?

VIRGIL: [distorted] Hold still.

[more static]

VIRGIL: There.

LOGAN: ...Thank you, Virgil. Thomas, we now have a live specimen from Remus' colony.

VIRGIL: No, you don't. Keeping it alive is a bad idea, trust me on this.

LOGAN: Virgil--!

VIRGIL: Now you have a worm corpse. Barely squished, still in good enough condition for you to mail to your friend so he can study it or whatever. And now he can study it without any risk of it trying to make a home underneath his skin. Yay!

LOGAN: Hm. It will have to do, I suppose. While I have you here, did you manage to search Ro--hold on.

[Recording ends]

_Patton has requested that his follow-up interview not be publicly posted. He did go on record, however, to state that he expects to hear from Remus within the month, and will relay any potentially relevant information to our research. With Remus' implication that there are other Flesh Hives active in the world, we are seeking any and all reports on possible encounters so that we may verify this theory._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	7. Facing Facts (Multiple accounts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various statements regarding an entity Logan and I have dubbed 'Deceit'. Interviews conducted by Logan and transcribed as always by Thomas.

**Claire, 05-06-19**

[Recording begins]

CLAIRE: Thank you for seeing me.

LOGAN: No need to thank me. It is my job, after all.

CLAIRE: Of course. Nevertheless, I wanted you to know that I appreciate the work you're doing, and that you've chosen to take my statement.

LOGAN: Understood. Are you ready to begin?

CLAIRE: Yes, thank you. You spoke to my partner recently, I believe--I didn't read her statement, as she had already relayed the story to me, and I tend to avoid browsing websites such as yours for the sake of my mental health. But since Ida spoke to you, there has been another incident.

I can't say for sure whether or not this case is related to... whatever supernatural force with which Roman Kingsley has aligned himself, if that is indeed what has happened to him. I'm inclined to think that something else has caused it, given that Ida is physically unharmed.

LOGAN: And what exactly happened to Ida?

CLAIRE: Again, I can't say for sure. I don't want to make any assumptions. Until we get the test results back we don't know that it wasn't a natural phenomenon. We don't know whether or not it really was Ida.

LOGAN: What was?

CLAIRE: I apologize, I'm being vague. Not on purpose, I assure you. I simply feel that I lack the vocabulary and the knowledge to properly explain what happened, and that is evidently clear in the way I'm speaking of the incident.

What happened was just this--Ida's roommate left on a trip, and during that time period there were significant fluctuations in her personality and apparent gaps in her memory. Almost as if there were two of her. As if someone was impersonating her.

LOGAN: That sounds like a possible possession.

CLAIRE: No, I researched possession cases and ruled out the possibility. The changes weren't as significant as the typical signs of a possession, and didn't match the description well enough. Besides which, I have to confess I'm largely a skeptic when it comes to demons and ghosts. They tend to appear as the 'easy way out' to explain certain phenomena that often have a much more natural and rational cause.

This is not to say that I do not believe in the existence of forces beyond what science has conclusively discovered. There is still so much that we don't know about the things that inhabit the ephemeral world. What happened to Ida may well be the responsibility of one such inexplicable entity.

LOGAN: How did you come to that conclusion?

CLAIRE: I saw them both in the same place. Once. Briefly. I don't think either of them caught me looking. At first I wanted to rationalize it, claim it as a hallucination, but there was no reason that I could think of for me to have hallucinated such an event. And the more I thought about it, I realized there was something _off_ about the face of one of them. Something in the eyes, the way the light hit them.

The next time I saw that Ida, the Ida with the glinting eyes, I noticed that her hand didn't feel like skin. It was soft, and warm, but there was a layer of separation from the actual skin that was somehow tangible. Like she was wearing gloves, although it looked like her hands were bare.

I never said anything to that Ida. Some gut feeling told me that doing so would cause me to lose the _real_ Ida, and possibly myself as well. I kept away from Ida in general as much as I could without damaging our relationship. I waited for Hester to come back from their trip, and that Ida, the one that was wrong, seemed to disappear upon their return.

Every once in a while during that time, she would look at me and just... smile. It was too sharp, not a smile that belonged on her face. I got the sense in those moments that whatever she was, that one was testing me, and she was pleased with the results.

I don't know what that means for me, or for Ida, but I dare to hope that it means we're safe. Of course, I still intend to prepare for the worst, as much as one can when faced with an unknowable enemy and complete uncertainty as to what 'the worst' entails... That's part of why I'm here, actually. I was hoping you might have some prior experience with similar cases and as such would be able to give me at least some of the information I'm lacking.

LOGAN: There are a few other cases of impersonations that appeared supernatural in origin within the Archives, yes. Some of them dating quite far back. I will look over those cases and my notes to see if I can find anything helpful for you. Please keep us appraised of the situation.

CLAIRE: I will, thank you.

[Recording ends]

_Logan managed to follow up with Claire and Ida. Medical testing showed nothing physically wrong with Ida's brain, so it is unlikely that she was suffering from memory loss or any other cognitive issues that might have otherwise explained the cause of her inconsistent behavior and memory. Ida also mentioned that she had noticed her phone periodically going missing, and the dates and times seemed to line up with Claire's estimation of the times in which she interacted with the 'other' Ida. They report that no further incidents have occurred thus far._

* * *

**Nora, 06-05-19**

[Recording begins]

[silence]

LOGAN: ...Any time, Nora.

NORA: Oh, you want me to just start talking?

LOGAN: Well, yes.

NORA: Huh. Okay. So, I met this guy who--

LOGAN: Ah, if you could provide some context, before the actual encounter?

NORA: Oh, yeah, yeah. I had a late shift at work, and I was walking to the bus stop. This guy pops in outta nowhere asking for directions, I told him to [censored] off. I'm a female-presenting individual walking alone and it's late at night, I'm not an idiot.

So I'm starting to walk away, but then he calls me by name. Like, my full name.

If it had just been my first name, whatever, maybe I was still wearing my nametag. I forget to take it off sometimes after work, so sue me. But this creepy [censored] had my middle name. And a string of online usernames and other stuff that he shouldn't have known that he just rattled off like he'd memorized this whole list of information about me.

LOGAN: And what did he look like?

NORA: At first? Pretty boring, honestly. Average-looking guy, nothing special, nothing that'd stand out. Except the hat. It looked old--I don't mean just that he'd had it for a while, I mean the style was old. I think it was a top hat, I don't know. Oh, he was wearing gloves, too. Not like winter gloves, although that would've been weird anyway. Fancy gloves, like a cheesy old-school magician would wear.

He tried to grab me--I was, like, totally frozen by that point, I mean, how else do you respond when someone you've definitely never met just casually drops the fact that he knows you haven't done the laundry in too long, what the [censored], right? He tried to grab me, and I hit him in the face. That's when the hat came off and I saw what he really looked like.

Snake scales. Covering about half his face. Not tattoos, actual scales. Tattoos don't reflect light like that. And the eyes--one of them was a snake eye, and from the way it moved it definitely wasn't one of those fancy contact lenses. The guy was legitimately part snake.

I didn't look at him for too long, but I saw all I ever needed to.

Fortunately, as soon as he realized his hat was off, he let me go and went to grab it, and I kicked him hard enough to knock him on his ass and booked it.

Oh, [censored], I hope Riley doesn't read this. They were so [censored] annoying about those self-defense classes. 'C'mon, Nora, you have to learn how to protect yourself, you never know what could happen to you'. Lesson [censored] learned. They'll never shut up about it if they know I actually had to use that [censored].

LOGAN: ...All right. Anything else? Any details you noticed?

NORA: Um, I guess his eyes. Like, even before they changed. The way they reflected the light was just weird. I dunno how to explain it, I sucked at science when I was in school so I have no idea how that stuff works, but I know it shouldn't have worked like _that_.

LOGAN: Like what?

NORA: They looked like mirrors. And no, I don't mean eye-shine like animals have, I know what that looks like from having to let Ri's [censored] wolfhound or whatever the [censored] it is out at night. This was something else. Not animal, not human, not anything I've ever seen before.

LOGAN: Do you... see a lot of these kinds of things?

NORA: ...No. Ri does sometimes. Like, the reason I met them is because of their old neighbor that they said had weird bone powers. I used to think they were crazy. Guess not.

LOGAN: I see. Well, thank you for your time. I will let you know if--

NORA: Don't bother. I'm moving out of town soon, so the chances of me running into that creepy [censored] again are gonna be slim to none.

LOGAN: ...Oh. Well, all right, if you are certain that you--

NORA: Nope, I don't wanna know anything else about this guy. I'd like to be able to sleep at night, so. Ignorance is bliss. Bye.

[sound of footsteps]

LOGAN: O-okay, then--

[Recording ends]

_Logan managed to obtain CCTV footage of the incident from a nearby building, however, he was unable to use it to capture a clear image of the person described in Nora's statement. No further leads have presented themselves, and this case will likely be dropped given Nora's reluctance to revisit the incident any further._

_Update: Three days after posting this statement, the Archives received an email from an unknown source, which contained the following message._

_"It was a bowler hat, actually. Though I don't know why I'm bothering to send a correction. Even without having seen Nora's browser history, I think you know as well as I that there's no chance she'll read this. Still, accuracy is important, is it not?"_

_Our attempts to track the sender failed--the IP address was apparently rerouted to make the message appear as though it was sent from within Thomas' own home. We are looking into implementing new cybersecurity measures for the Archives as a whole, which will likely affect the email submission process. More details on these changes will be posted soon._

* * *

**Thomas, 09-13-19**

[Recording begins]

[Skype call noise]

THOMAS: Logan! Are you recording?

LOGAN: As you instructed, yes. It sounded from your message as though you had something quite urgent to share.

THOMAS: I have a name for him.

LOGAN: Who?

THOMAS: The snake-face guy. The one with the weird mirror-eyes. Deceit.

LOGAN: And you have come to this conclusion because...?

THOMAS: I met him.

[silence]

LOGAN: ...I see now why you wanted me to record our conversation. I take it you are about to make a statement?

THOMAS: Got it in one.

I should start by saying that I don't like to go out. I'm not good with people when it's face-to-face, and I have a problem with crowds. I hate having to go shopping or run errands or anything like that. But I really, really needed a haircut, and it was at the point where doing it myself would not have ended well. So I figured I'd head to the mall, find a place that didn't look too busy, and try to get a walk-in.

This one barbershop was literally empty except for one guy sweeping the floor, and to me that looked perfect. Everything seemed fine until I was in the chair. That's when I realized that I couldn't see his reflection in the mirror properly. That's when he started to talk to me.

Now, I'm bad at small-talk with strangers during the best of times, but this was worse than usual. He said I should be recording. That you would want to hear it later. He referred to you by name. Full name.

LOGAN: If he knew my last name, then he was clearly not just a fan of the website looking to share his story, since I have not divulged that information on the Archives website.

THOMAS: Yeah, I figured as much. So I pulled out my phone and started an audio recording. I mean, what else could I do? The scissors he was holding were sharp, and I didn't want to know what he could've done with them. Here, I'm sending the file to you... _now_. Give it a listen, I'll put the transcript into this portion of the statement.

[second recording begins. sorry, there are a few layers to this statement--T]

DECEIT: Very good, Thomas. I expected nothing less. You are used to following orders, aren't you? I mean, first it was your parents--

THOMAS: What is this about?

DECEIT: Directly to business, of course. I should have expected nothing less from you. Those stories you've been sharing on your website. The ones about doppelgangers. I believe the majority of your witnesses refer to me as 'the other'? Not the worst name I've had, but I confess to being a little disappointed with its... blandness. 

THOMAS: ...Uh, what name would you prefer, then?

DECEIT: Oh, that's not how this goes, sweetie. You give me a name, and I take it and make it work. This length?

THOMAS: Wait, you're seriously giving me a haircut?

DECEIT: You really do need one. It'd be criminal to let you go without at least a trim. But I can do something fancier, if you like. I do actually have the training.

THOMAS: Just a trim, thanks.

[silence, then Deceit laughs]

DECEIT: Don't think I don't know that look in your eyes, Thomas. Relax, I'm not going to pull a Sweeney Todd on you. Leaving you alive promises to be far more interesting.

THOMAS: Why is that?

DECEIT: I'm curious to see how far you and your colleague will go to achieve your goals.

THOMAS: And if one of our goals is stopping you from doing... whatever it is you're up to?

DECEIT: Mm. _That's_ why I'm here, really. Keep your enemies close, and all that. But I highly doubt that either of you are going to interfere with my work, even after you figure out what it entails.

THOMAS: You seem pretty sure of yourself.

DECEIT: I see it in your eyes. His, too.

THOMAS: Uh...

DECEIT: Yes, I've met Logan. Twice now. I gave him my statements about--what was it? Oh, yes, the Slaughter and the Flesh, respectively. Not the new Boneturner--Roman Kingsley, wasn't it?--No, I encountered a different Flesh avatar, when I was back in London. Nice boy. Surprisingly handsome for what he was. Not too bright, though. And certainly not fast enough.

THOMAS: Uhhh...

DECEIT: I gave him fake names, of course, and I didn't look like this. There's an interesting kind of irony to it, isn't there? That someone in service to Beholding, whose aim it is to _know_ and _see_ \--completely missed the true nature of what was sitting across from him? 

Not to mention the fact that you know so much more about what's really going on than he does. Remind me, which one of you is supposed to be the Archivist?

THOMAS: I--what?

DECEIT: You're holding him back by not being forthcoming, and you know it. But you're afraid to open up, because that puts you at risk of making a real, human connection, which is the last thing you want.

Here's the thing. If you want to make real progress with your little project, you have to give him something to work with. Otherwise he'll figure it all out on his own and leave you in the dust. And I know that despite all your protests to the contrary, you don't _actually_ want to be alone. Not in the way you're supposed to.

You're an intelligent man, Thomas. I can tell. So smarten up.

THOMAS: Hey--!

[second recording ends]

LOGAN: Well. I have a lot of questions.

THOMAS: ...That's fair. 

LOGAN: 'Deceit' certainly seems to be an appropriate moniker, given that he has apparently misled me twice now as to his identity. I get the sense that some of the information he gave you was similarly fabricated as well.

THOMAS: Yeah, I don't know how much of what he said can be trusted.

LOGAN: I have a feeling I already know the answer to this, but what did he look like?

THOMAS: I don't remember any details, just that he looked nonthreatening until he got up close. I could barely even see his eyes properly. I tried, but all I could see was my own reflection.

LOGAN: ...What did he mean, at the end? What do you know that I don't?

THOMAS: Well, okay. I think he was referring to my library, and the Fears.

LOGAN: The what? Wait--you have a library?

THOMAS: Yeah, all the books are like, family heirlooms at this point. We have a lot of research on the, uh, the Fears. The Slaughter and the Flesh, Deceit mentioned those. They're two of the Fears, these entities that represent different human... y'know, _fears_. And they manifest in the world as the frightening things they represent.

...I'm not explaining this well, the books have a lot more detail. But, uh, Roman is an avatar of the Flesh, or at least Deceit seems to think he is. Being an avatar basically means that you serve that Fear, and you're given powers associated with that Fear as a result.

LOGAN: And what is Beholding?

THOMAS: A similar entity. It has to do with knowledge and awareness.

LOGAN: That would explain why Deceit seems to think that I am in its service. But I would think that an avatar of any of these entities you describe would be aware of their situation. I mean, there would have to be a certain degree of foreknowledge at least at some point during the process. Assuming that it is a process. How exactly does one become an avatar?

THOMAS: I don't know, actually... But I know how to find out more. I'm going to mail you some of these books, I think they could help us both understand more about a lot of the statements we've received, and I think you'll have more luck with them than I will. I probably should've given them to you sooner, I'm sorry I didn't think of it before.

LOGAN: Thomas! That is... I, um. Wow. Thank you for trusting me with such important possessions. I will do my best.

THOMAS: I know you will. In the meantime, you wanna look over some of those old submissions about people with weird personality changes and stuff like that, see if you can find a common thread and maybe figure out more about how Deceit operates?

LOGAN: I have a theory already that it has to do with his eyes.

THOMAS: Well, test it out with those old statements, then, I guess. I'm gonna go through the shelves and see what has the most relevant information.

LOGAN: Thomas?

THOMAS: Yes?

LOGAN: Thank you... For everything, thus far. And for, um. Continuing to work with me.

THOMAS: Of course! We're in this together. Y'know. Not physically, but... Yeah. 

[Recording ends]

_Previous statements that we believe to have been given by Deceit or that were most likely related to Deceit have been identified and edited to reflect this new information. Neither Thomas or Logan have had any further encounters with Deceit as of posting this statement._

* * *

**Deceit, 10-01-19. At 3:00 AM, Logan's recording equipment was turned on, and this message was left.**

[Recording begins]

DECEIT: Tell Thomas I absolutely despise the new name, and I'm going to make him pay dearly for it.

[silence]

DECEIT: ...Only joking, I'm keeping the name, and I won't be bothering him again. For now, at least. You have a lovely home, by the way, Mr. Barrie.

[in Patton's voice] You could stand to personalize the decor a little more, though.

[in Virgil's voice] Or are you afraid of what might happen if you do?

[in Remus' voice] Rest assured, dear Archivist, you're not in any danger of sharing Mr. Storm's fate.

[in Thomas' voice] That's not how it works, and besides...

[in Logan's voice] You're already marked for something else.

[Recording ends]

_Logan's home security system did not register anyone entering or exiting, and there was no possibility of his equipment having been operated remotely. There were no physical disturbances or other such alterations within the house that Logan could find, save for an old deck of what appear to be marked playing cards left beside his laptop._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	8. Body of Work/Roman, 01-01-20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Roman Kingsley on his experience with "The Boneturner's Tale" and the night(s) he fought with his brother, as well as a recent interaction with 'Deceit'. Interview conducted by Logan and transcribed as always by Thomas.

[Recording begins]

ROMAN: So, are we not going to talk about the fact that you had my brother's ex break into my home?

LOGAN: Technically, Virgil did not 'break in', as he entered without using force. Besides, his visit apparently yielded the desired result, so I am not inclined to apologize to you.

ROMAN: Whoa, whoa, I'm only here because I heard that my brother had slandered my name, so I wanted to set the record straight about what happened between me and Remus--

LOGAN: --that should be 'Remus and I'--

ROMAN: --whatever, _nerd_ \--I mean, as straight as I can be, which I'm... not. At all.

LOGAN: Both literally and metaphorically speaking, it would seem.

ROMAN: Well, good to know you're as irritatingly pedantic as I remember you.

LOGAN: I cannot recall why I ever agreed to a second date.

ROMAN: Nor can I. You made it very clear that you didn't approve of my career--

LOGAN: --All I said was that your profession was not particularly lucrative, and that I thought your work was somewhat derivative.

ROMAN: Yeah, well, you're not an art critic! ...Although I'll confess, most people had the same opinion about my art at the time.

LOGAN: Well then, perhaps you should listen to the criticism you have received, regardless of who gave it.

ROMAN: Oh, I did, for a long time, I did. Then I found the book--you know which book, don't be a prick--and I figured something out. I don't have to create to please others. I can make art for myself. _Of_ myself. And no-one else's opinion on it matters. The act of creation is a selfish one, after all.

LOGAN: Poetic. Tell me more about the book.

ROMAN: Ugh, _fine_. You have no sense of style, you know that?

LOGAN: Yes, I have heard that before. Mostly from you and your brother. Now please explain how you came to be in possession of "The Boneturner's Tale".

ROMAN: How I found it is hardly the most interesting part of the story...

LOGAN: Nevertheless, I would like to hear it.

ROMAN: I had... switched tracks, recently. Trying to move from visual art to the written word. I wanted to write a novel. Prove that I could do something _original_. Unlike my sculpture, apparently. But I'm not a fool--despite what you may think, and kindly keep that opinion to yourself, Logan. I knew I had to do some research on creative writing before I got too far in. So I became a rather frequent patron of the nearest public library, as you already know.

It was on a nearly-empty shelf at the back, unlabeled. I touched the spine, and it-it _spoke_ to me, Logan. Before I'd even opened it.

All it took was a couple pages, and I knew I had to take it with me.

LOGAN: Wait, a couple pages? I was told you were in the library for hours.

ROMAN: Well, time flies when you're completely enraptured in a good book, am I right? ...Or it may have been a whole chapter, and before you say anything about me being a slow reader, I was _savoring_ it. You know, it's a thing normal people do when they enjoy something?

LOGAN: If you could continue without making petty remarks about my perceived apathy towards art and culture, this whole process will go far more smoothly.

ROMAN: Look, Specs, I'm stressed and lacking outlets for distraction, so just be happy I'm not doing anything that you can't come back from.

LOGAN: Are you seriously threatening me while you know you're being recorded?

ROMAN: What? No! No, I didn't mean it like _that_. I, uh, I meant--

LOGAN: I'm not particularly interested in what you meant. Continue with your statement.

ROMAN: Gladly. I'll skip telling you how I got it back home, if you don't mind.

LOGAN: Yes, I already have a sense of that.

ROMAN: Not my finest moment. Nor was the phone call I had with Remus later that week.

I'd been reading the book on and off since I brought it home, and I was starting to notice some strange things. The injured animals that kept showing up outside the condo, the bones I found in my work space afterwards. The fact that my other books started bleeding if I let it sit nearby for too long. My newfound... flexibility, I guess you could say. I mean, I can bend my fingers--but you probably don't want to see that.

The point is, that it stands to reason, doesn't it, that I was so wrapped up in what was happening with me that I didn't notice something was wrong with Remus?

Well, I did notice that he was a lot more hostile than usual. I mean, we always end up arguing, but this time he was more vicious than usual. It didn't take long before he snapped at me and started going off about how self-centered I was being. Apparently I'd gotten distracted and asked him a question he'd already answered. Probably about Virgil, that was definitely still a sore spot at that point.

He dealt some solid blows to my ego that night. People say 'oh, wow, you two are twins, you must be so connected', and I guess we are, but all that means to us now is that we know where to hit each other where it really hurts. It was a good thing he hung up after he'd run out of breath haranguing me about all my failings, or it would've gotten _very_ nasty.

LOGAN: This was the phone call before the one that he mentioned in his own statement, correct? Did he say anything that you marked as particularly unusual?

ROMAN: Yes, and as a matter of fact, he did. He kept saying 'we' and 'us' like there was someone else with him, and right before he hung up I thought I heard him talking to someone else. I assumed he was talking about himself and Virgil, or maybe he'd found someone new.

LOGAN: Several someones, as it turned out.

ROMAN: Ugh, don't remind me. You should've seen the look on his face when his creepy little pets came rushing at me. As love-struck as he was in the early days with Virgil. Except worse, because, well, they're _worms_. Dangerous ones. Those things are frighteningly fast.

LOGAN: You don't appear to have suffered any adverse effects from being in contact with them. That is, I assume your current state is a result of your abilities rather than the fight you had with the Flesh Hive.

ROMAN: Choosing to ignore that slight against my appearance because I look gorgeous--No, they barely touched me. And I have my abilities, as you put it, to thank for that.

LOGAN: What would you rather call your 'abilities'?

ROMAN: They're gifts. Obviously.

LOGAN: Not to the people you've harmed.

ROMAN: Well, art is subjective. And you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette, am I right?

LOGAN: That's hardly comparable to removing people's bones.

ROMAN: Not to you, maybe. But to you, sending someone to spy on me and invade my privacy is fine, so who knows where your morals are at?

LOGAN: You weren't responding to my previous attempts to contact you, and I had reason to believe that a direct approach would result in physical harm to my person. I had exhausted my more 'polite' options, and I did not wish to risk my own safety.

ROMAN: So you risked Virgil's safety instead. Not that there was any actual risk, of course, but you weren't sure of that when you asked him to go through my stuff, were you? Hm. If I couldn't literally feel your heart beating, I'd be concerned that you didn't have one.

LOGAN: I was confident that Virgil would not be in danger, his own abilities allowed him to enter and exit your house quickly and unobtrusively. Also, I find it immensely disconcerting that you can sense my heartbeats from this distance.

ROMAN: Well, it's not exactly pleasant for me either.

LOGAN: Noted. Now, I would like to know how the book... gave you your 'gifts', as it were.

ROMAN: Honestly, I'm not entirely sure. The story just sparked a creative fire in me, and suddenly I had these powers. The plot was darker than my usual choice of reading material, sure, but clearly that was exactly the kind of inspiration I needed.

LOGAN: The plot being--?

ROMAN: Ah! It's a retelling of a classic tale, from the perspective of an outsider as he hunts down and dismembers the characters. The language was... evocative, to say the least.

I could picture myself as the Bonesmith so easily. I imagined myself crafting tools and instruments from bone, carving into meat like marble, shaping it like clay. And now, that's what I _do_. I make masterpieces of the human body. It's not _my_ fault that my art is unappreciated.

LOGAN: Ida mentioned that the book appeared to be linked to previous instances of people developing abilities such as yours. Does the book contain any information about any possible previous owners?

ROMAN: Oh, I don't own the book. None of us ever _owned_ the book. But yes, it's the same copy from the cases you've read about. It has to be--it's one of a kind, as far as I can tell. But you would've known some of that already, since you sent Virgil to snoop around, right?

LOGAN: From what I could actually hear over all the static during his latest phone call, I believe you caught him in the act of attempting to examine the book, so... no.

ROMAN: Well, that serves you right, I guess. Hey, what about the guy with the weird eyes?

LOGAN: ...I only sent Virgil.

ROMAN: So Bowler Hat Guy wasn't one of your cronies? Then why was he asking about the book?

LOGAN: What, exactly, did Deceit say to you?

ROMAN: Oh, so you _do_ know him! Let me think--he said a lot of stuff about 'keeping up appearances'. He transformed into me at one point--not, like, me as I am now, but me before.

LOGAN: How did he do it?

ROMAN: I don't know, I blinked and he was me. He was, like, trying to sell me on some kind of weird deal where he'd impersonate me in public, basically? I turned him down, because obviously I'm fine, I can look 'normal'. Watch this.

[sound of... I don't know how to describe it, but Logan said it was his bones rearranging, and it sounds awful--T]

LOGAN: ...That still doesn't look 'normal' to me.

ROMAN: Ugh, that's exactly what he said! "Maybe you should get a book on anatomy, dear, because you've got the wrong number of elbows", talk about rude, am I right? It's a process, obviously. And Weird-Eye Moody had no right to judge me on that... Not my best nickname, either, I know, but he really didn't give me a lot to work with.

I can't remember his face. Just the eyes. They shone like mirrors.

He said I was 'no longer myself', whatever that means. That I was 'attracting attention', which I'm perfectly fine with doing. I mean, I wanted people to sit up and take notice of myself and my work, this is what I wanted!

LOGAN: Is it? Truly?

ROMAN: Shut up, Logan, you wouldn't know what happiness looked like if it jumped up and bit you on the nose.

LOGAN: So you claim to be happy with your current state of being.

ROMAN: I--yes! Yes, of course! I get to be my own canvas, I get to make art in a way no-one ever has before! I--

LOGAN: --you get to separate your identity from that of your brother.

[silence]

ROMAN: I don't look like him anymore, and I'm glad of it. And you know what, I'm glad he's in hiding, too. I'm glad I don't have to hear about him getting solos in his stupid orchestra or how he's actually successful and making money, because he's not doing any of it anymore, so I can finally stop comparing my career to his and feeling inferior!

I can finally say that I'm better than him, and actually believe it.

He looked terrified, when he saw me. It... felt _good_. He terrorized me when we were kids, pulled all sorts of pranks to try and scare me. Do you have any idea how satisfying it was to turn the tables on him like that? To see in his eyes the moment that he realized how completely I'd surpassed him?

LOGAN: So that's what this is really about, then? But you have nothing to prove, Roman. Not to him, at least.

ROMAN: I wouldn't expect you to understand, you barely know me, not to mention you have no idea what it's like in the art world. It's cutthroat, Logan. Incredibly competitive. I was reliant on Remus' connections to get work, and I hated having to stoop so low. He held that over my head for years. But the book, these powers--they gave me a way out. To stand out, to stay relevant, to do it all on my own.

LOGAN: You know that your brother resented you for being the perceived 'favorite child'--

ROMAN: Why are you defending him? You think _I'm_ dangerous, but _he's_ the one you should be worried about. He's the one who's actually killed someone.

[silence]

ROMAN: You know I'm right. You've seen the news report. I saw the body. The parts of it that the maggots hadn't eaten, anyway.

LOGAN: There are other Flesh Hives. We have no concrete evidence that it was Remus' colony, and I have no desire to speculate on the subject without first finding more information. When did Deceit come to speak to you?

ROMAN: Early last month, I don't remember the exact date. He just walked in. Either I left the front door unlocked--which is unlikely--or he picked the lock, or he had some other method of sneaking in, like dear old Jack Smellington.

...I'm talking about Virgil, just so we're clear.

[silence]

Look, I don't like him. He's Remus' ex, and he's creepy as hell. Also he looks like Jack Skellington now, don't tell me you don't see it, with the weird fingers and the long legs.

LOGAN: I do not watch animated movies.

ROMAN: Wh-you-Nightmare Before Christmas is a classic, you heathen!

LOGAN: This conversation is becoming unproductive. Is there anything else you need to tell me?

[silence]

ROMAN: That stuff I said about my brother? About wanting to be better than him? I didn't mean to say all that. You _pulled_ it from me, the way I'd pull out a rib. You know you did that, right?

LOGAN: Ah. That has been happening more and more often lately. I am attempting to control it, but apparently I lost focus during our discussion. I... if you have strange dreams, after this, please let me know.

ROMAN: So what did you read, to give you that power?

LOGAN: I cannot pinpoint when it happened, but I know it is connected to my work with the Archives.

ROMAN: "He who fights monsters", huh?

LOGAN: Oh, not at all. I am not a monster hunter of any kind.

ROMAN: Sure, Logan. Your research doesn't count as 'monster hunting' at all.

LOGAN: Hmm. 

[silence]

LOGAN: What about you, Roman?

ROMAN: What's that?

LOGAN: You implied that I have become something monstrous, but you also likened my abilities to yours. What does that say about you? Are you not a monster, then?

ROMAN: You know what? We're done here. If I wanted to sit around and listen to you belittle and insulte me, I would've asked you on a third date.

[sound of footsteps, a door opening and closing]

LOGAN: Well. That could have gone better. Having a civil conversation with Roman has always been a struggle for me, but at least I have gained some potentially valuable information from this debacle. I expect he will be moving shortly, given his displeasure with Virgil and myself.

I should apologize to Virgil for putting him in that situation, although he was... more _eager_ than I expected about the whole endeavor, even after he was caught out. Regardless, I am concerned about how he might be dealing with the aftermath of that, ah, 'incident'. There was some sort of fight, I think, and I know how much Virgil dislikes conflict.

Deceit's motivations remain a mystery, unfortunately. This is the second time he has revealed himself to someone connected to me.

I wonder if... Well. I wonder, in general, about a lot of things relating to Deceit.

[Recording ends]

_Virgil has not responded to further inquiries on the details of what he found in Roman's home, or what transpired between the two of them. Roman appears to have changed addresses and phone numbers sometime in between his encounter with Virgil and this interview. His current whereabouts are unknown. He did, however, leave behind Virgil's old hoodie._

_There have been no reported signs of Deceit since this interview was recorded._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	9. Negative Feedback (Multiple accounts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statements regarding what we assume to be the effects of the Distortion. Interviews conducted by Logan and transcribed as always by Thomas.

**Hester, 01-15-20**

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: Are you ready?

HESTER: I mean, do I have a choice?

LOGAN: Of course.

HESTER: [laughs] No, I don't. I really don't. I-I can _feel_ it.

LOGAN: I am... so sorry. Truly.

HESTER: What _are_ you? A-are you and that _thing_ connected?

LOGAN: I don't know, and I won't know until you tell me what happened.

HESTER: I hate this. I _hate_ this.

[silence]

HESTER: ...Where do you want me to start?

LOGAN: Wherever you think is the most appropriate point in the timeline.

HESTER: Oh, please don't do that. I don't--seriously, where do I start?

LOGAN: Ah. How about telling me how you found the Archives?

HESTER: Yeah, okay, I can do that. I can do that. Um, my roommate's partner mentioned you, the last time we talked. After I came back from my trip.

That's when it started, was right after I came back. Well, pretty much, not exactly 'right' after. But it was pretty soon after. Ida--should I, um. Is it okay to say people's names?

LOGAN: If you would like to, then go ahead.

HESTER: No, but, is it _safe_?

LOGAN: I can always have Thomas change the names later, if you have safety concerns.

HESTER: ...Among other things, yeah, I guess you could say I have 'safety concerns'.

LOGAN: Does it help to know that both Ida and Claire have given statements before using their real first names?

HESTER: Maybe? I mean, they're dealing with their own stuff, is the thing. If I end up adding to that somehow--

LOGAN: --They will be equipped to handle it. Now please continue, we can discuss this issue further after you've given your statement. What 'started' after you returned home?

HESTER: Ida was out a lot after I got back, because of... well, I don't know the whole story, actually, you probably know more about it. But she was spending more time at Claire's place, and I don't blame her, but because of that I was mostly alone in the apartment. And going in and out of the apartment. Any time I was walking around in the building at all, basically. And stuff started happening.

It started slow, but I knew something was off. I mean, I keep... weird hours, not gonna lie, but I still see people around in the building sometimes. But then Ida started to stay over at Claire's more often, and I realized that on those days I never saw anyone else around, either. I used to hate seeing random people in the hallway. I used to hate having to take the elevator with other people... Then I got stuck in it alone.

Once, just once. It stopped, and it went dark, and when I finally found and pressed the call button I just got static in response.

LOGAN: Static...

HESTER: I don't know how long I was in there. All I knew was that no-one was coming to help me. That probably sounds stupid, but I just... I _felt_ it.

LOGAN: For people with anxiety--

HESTER: --I know! Believe me, I _know_. 

[silence]

HESTER: Um, sorry for interrupting.

LOGAN: Nonsense. This is your statement, so there is no need for you to apologize.

HESTER: Oh... Thanks. Should I...?

LOGAN: Yes, do continue.

HESTER: I sort of panicked. Well, okay, not 'sort of', I completely panicked. I screamed, I pressed every button, like, five times at _least_ just to see if something would happen, I kept trying to use my phone even though I had no reception, I was stuck in a panic cycle. But eventually, the lights came back on, and the doors opened.

I don't remember what floor it was supposed to be, I just ran as soon as I saw the hallway in front of me, because I needed to get out of that elevator _so_ badly. And then I was stuck in the hallway.

I figured out pretty quickly that I was on the wrong floor once the adrenaline wore off a bit, but I couldn't find the stairs, and I was _not_ going back into the elevator after all that. Although even if I had been brave enough to try it again, I doubt I would've been able to find it anyway.

Somehow, after about twenty minutes of searching and finding nothing, I mustered up the courage to start knocking on people's doors asking for help. But nobody answered. No-one at all. It was like the entire floor was empty except for me.

No, it _was_ empty. I know it was, somehow, I just _know_. I was totally alone, and I was trapped.

I was getting back into panic mode by the time I'd figured out that I was alone in there. I could feel an attack coming on, which was the last thing I needed, so I tried to do the exercises that Claire taught me. And I kept thinking about--this sounds stupid, but I kept thinking, 'okay, what would she do in this situation?'

And I just... followed that thought, and I found the stairs, and I got back to my--well, my and Ida's apartment. It was just me, again, and the thought of having to spend any more time alone freaked me out so much. I used to love it when I had the place to myself, but now...

I've been spending a lot more time with Per--actually, I don't think I should say his name, but he's a friend from a support group-type thing that I started going to just before the, um, the elevator incident. Since then, everything's felt a lot more normal. Y'know, for a given value of 'normal'. The bar is pretty low for me, if I'm being honest.

LOGAN: I certainly know how that feels. Could you tell me more about the hallway you were in? Was there a pattern on the carpet, the wallpaper? Were there paintings along the wall?

HESTER: Uh... There might've been? I wasn't paying attention to what things looked like. Sorry. All I remember is that it didn't look like the rest of the building, and it felt very... blank. If that helps.

LOGAN: It... might. If you remember any more details, please contact me. In the meantime, I have a phone call to make.

HESTER: I can go? We're good?

LOGAN: Yes.

HESTER: Great, thank you so much. Um, will you email me when you find new information, or...?

LOGAN: If that is what you want me to do, then yes.

HESTER: ...I think so. I'll, uh, let you know if I change my mind.

LOGAN: I'm sure you will.

[Recording ends]

_Hester later requested not to be contacted with further information on this case._

* * *

**Percy, 02-01-20**

[Recording begins]

PERCY: Okay, I have some questions--

LOGAN: --I think that you have fundamentally misunderstood the purpose of our meeting.

PERCY: Does Hester know that Ida gave their name in her statement? Because I don't think they'd be too happy with that. Are you able to edit--

LOGAN: --This is something we can discuss later. Preferably with Hester.

PERCY: Right. Sorry. I just--they're having a hard time, and we've gotten really close, and I guess I just feel like I should try and protect--or, help is probably a better word. I just wanna help them to feel safe. And Ida's been... hard to deal with lately, for both of us.

LOGAN: Well, that is... not what I am here to discuss. I gather from your initial message to the Archives and from your question just now that you are familiar with the website?

PERCY: Right on the money. I imagine your Archivist powers help with that?

LOGAN: I would prefer not to comment on that.

PERCY: Hm. Seems unfair that you're able to drag answers out of people with your mind, but you won't answer _my_ questions.

LOGAN: I never said that I wouldn't answer your questions, only that I would prefer to focus on your statement for the time being.

PERCY: Oh, gotcha. Sorry, I don't mean to be rude. Hester tells me my enthusiasm and curiosity sometimes outweigh my common sense and self-preservation instincts, and they're obviously one hundred percent correct. Which is, uh, how I ended up needing to talk to you.

As you know, I've been spending a lot of time with Hester lately. And that's been great! But I do need some time to myself once in a while. A lot of the time that means going for walks or drives around the city, just wandering, exploring. Sometimes at night--which, yeah, not the smartest choice when I'm walking, I know I look like the kind of guy who'd come out of a fight with a chihuahua and lose, but listen, small dogs can be _fierce_ , okay?

But I usually drive at night, there's a spot just on the edge of the city, a hill that's perfect for stargazing. I'd grab a blanket and a thermos of tea and just... hang out. Decompress. I, uh, can't go there anymore, because of the vertigo.

LOGAN: Hm. Elaborate on that.

PERCY: I'm getting to it, I swear--I'm just, y'know, trying to craft a narrative here. Trying to measure up to the other interviews. They all seemed so--fancy? Formal? Eloquent? Something like that, anyway... Hey, I wonder if that's got anything to do with your spooky powers!

LOGAN: I don't--

PERCY: --It's just, Hester said that when they spoke to you, it felt like they were compelled, like they physically couldn't not tell you everything, if that makes sense.

LOGAN: Well, your grammar is atrocious, but yes, I know what you mean. And yes... That was my, ah, influence.

PERCY: So if you can do--whatever it is that you do to get people to talk about this stuff--then why aren't you doing it to _me_?

LOGAN: It has recently come to my attention that the use of my abilities often yields... unpleasant side effects for both the subject and myself.

PERCY: Oh. _Oh_ , you mean the dreams. Hester said they saw you--

LOGAN: --Yes, well, could we continue with your statement, please? Tell me what happened at the hill to give you vertigo.

PERCY: ...Wow, okay, that feels weird. 

[Logan inhales sharply]

LOGAN: I did not intend to--

PERCY: --No, you're fine, this is kind of cool. Okay, so, this one time, Hester was staying the night at my place and they had the, uh, the usual nightmare--sorry, I have to--and I decided we should go to my spot on the hill. I thought it might help. Does--is there a way to make them stop, do you know? Sorry, I should leave questions for later, I know. Especially questions like _that_.

Anyway, we're out at the hill, I put down this big picnic blanket so we could lie down, and Hester's on the edge of it as far away from me as possible. I'm not blaming them, I'm not, I know they value their personal space, especially when they're... out-of-sorts, I guess is the polite way to phrase it. 

I kept an eye on them for a while, then when it looked like they were starting to get comfortable, I finally looked at the sky. And when I turned back, Hester was gone, and the blanket was gone, and the hill was gone--everything was just _gone_. All I could see was the sky. No clouds, just stars and the void of space swirling around me. All I could do was... stare.

It was so cold.

I don't know how I came back, but when I did, it was almost dawn. Hester was freaking out--they had fallen asleep, somehow, but the nightmare came again and when they woke up I wasn't there... I felt worse about upsetting them than about whatever had just happened to me, to be honest.

LOGAN: Did you hear anything, when you were taken? Any static?

PERCY: I--yeah, actually. Not static, but a low, faint rumble, like I was hearing an earthquake far away, except it was coming from inside my head. Why, do you know what did this? Hester seemed to think you did...

LOGAN: I still can't say for certain, unfortunately. But I have my suspicions. Would you be able to return at a later date? I know that you wished to ask some questions of me after the conclusion of your interview, but right now I have more pressing concerns.

PERCY: That's, uh--sure, I can do that. You promise you'll actually answer my questions later?

LOGAN: To the best of my ability, yes. If you do indeed want answers.

PERCY: Okay, then, you've got a deal.

LOGAN: Thank you, Percy. Please email the Archives website to set up our next meeting.

PERCY: Gotcha. See you later.

[sound of footsteps, door opening and closing]

LOGAN: I should probably stop recording, before--

[static]

LOGAN: Ah. Hello, Virgil.

VIRGIL: Logan. You don't look so good, buddy.

LOGAN: Here. Read these.

[silence]

VIRGIL: Huh. So... You think _I_ \--

LOGAN: Yes. I do.

VIRGIL: [laughs, echoing] Wow, Logan, and you call _me_ the paranoid one. 

LOGAN: Virgil, this is serious. These are innocent people--

VIRGIL: --Oh, like _you're_ any better.

LOGAN: So you _were_ responsible for these incidents.

VIRGIL: [distorted] Eh, some of them. Broadly speaking. I mean, if you hit someone, would they blame your hand?

LOGAN: ...I don't follow.

VIRGIL: 'Course you don't. But seriously, the difference between what I do and what you do is infinitesimal. I just work a lot faster than you do.

LOGAN: What?

VIRGIL: [distorted] What do you think is happening to those people outside of their nightmares, Archivist? Do you think they're fine? No. They're confused and desperate and tormented, and it's your fault. This one here, Hester? Didn't lay a finger on them. But their fear feeds the Spiral now, and it's because of the dreams you gave them.

LOGAN: No. No, I can't--I _refuse_ to believe, Virgil, that you're even capable--

VIRGIL: [distorted, static underneath] Except you did. You _do_. Don't lie to me, Archivist. 

[Logan gasps]

VIRGIL: [distorted] The funny thing is, you're not wrong to say it. Virgil wasn't capable of that. Not the one you knew. The human one. But I'm not that Virgil. I'm a monster, Archivist. Just. Like. _You_.

[static]

LOGAN: ...He's gone. Virgil is... Virgil is gone. He was gone the moment he moved into that house, wasn't he?

What does that mean for someone like Remus? Or Roman, or Deceit, or... _me?_

[Recording ends]

 _Percy's second interview was not recorded. He did, however, report no further incidents involving himself or Hester, and has volunteered to act as an additional researcher for the Archives._ _We have not contacted Virgil since the time of this recording, and he has made no attempt to contact us._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	10. Balancing Scales/Deceit, 02-22-20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit approached me requesting an interview. What follows is a statement, of sorts: he describes his past and his nature, offers some information on the other Fears and their avatars, and tells of his encounter with the Cult of the Lightless Flame. I elected to transcribe it myself. I hope it meets the usual standards of the Archives.--Logan

[Recording begins]

DECEIT: One moment, if you would indulge me.

[a wooden 'thunk', followed by some 'clacking' sounds]

LOGAN: A chess set?

DECEIT: I like to have something to do with my hands while I talk. And you'll be an interesting opponent, I have no doubt. You can take white, if you like.

LOGAN: Why here? Why now?

DECEIT: Seemed as good a time and place as any. Why don't you ask something more interesting?

LOGAN: Very well. Why did you break into my home and leave that message?

DECEIT: A demonstration of what I could do. You were curious to know. Or did I read you wrong, the last time we met?

LOGAN: That cannot have been the sole reason for your... visit.

DECEIT: Very astute, Archivist. I often have multiple motivations. Today, for instance. Would you like to know why I'm speaking to you today?

LOGAN: I thought I had already asked--

DECEIT: Not quite. Here's a tip--don't ask vague questions if you don't want a vague answer. How has this not come up for you before? I would've thought, with your abilities--

LOGAN: --I try to avoid using them.

DECEIT: A fact of which I am well aware, though your reasoning baffles me. Your job, your life, would be so much easier if you embraced them. Remus couldn't have lied to you. Nora would have been much more forthcoming...

LOGAN: I refuse to invade the privacy of other human beings any further than I already have.

DECEIT: Oh, honey. Don't you get it? You're not human. You gave that up long ago.

LOGAN: Speak for yourself.

DECEIT: Oh, I do. I've been exactly where you are--more or less, anyway. I know you're not at the 'acceptance' stage just yet. I'm happy to help you get there, you know, despite the fact that our respective patrons don't exactly get along.

[silence]

DECEIT: What? I'm serious, the two of us are meant to be hereditary enemies. Beholding's goal, _your_ goal, is to see and know all. But creatures like myself, in service of the Stranger, require a high degree of anonymity--leaving no records, no photographs, doing nothing that would make us stand out in a crowd, that would make anyone stand up and take notice--

LOGAN: Yet you've been careless.

DECEIT: How so?

LOGAN: You left traces. Damien Serpentes. Arrested in New York City seven years ago for identity theft. The mugshot may have been lost, and the charges dropped, but the name still exists, and the description of the crime matches up with your _modus operandi_ , does it not?

DECEIT: If you say so. Do you think that's my 'real name'?

LOGAN: ...I... did...

DECEIT: How cute. I left a trail on that one, sure, out of curiosity more than anything else. I've been at this for a long time, it starts to get tedious after about fifty years. And I had the Stranger's blessing to, ah, 'mix things up'. If I get predictable, I become something familiar, and we can't have that. Recognizable agents of the Stranger often get... replaced.

LOGAN: How long have you been doing this?

DECEIT: A long time. I've lost count of the years, I don't know that I could even tell you when I started. Does it matter?

LOGAN: Perhaps not.

DECEIT: What about the traces of my past that you found in England? Would you like to ask about all that?

LOGAN: I considered it, but I was uncertain of your involvement in the incident until you admitted as much just now. So. Tell me about the Lightless Flame, then, Skin-Stealer. Since you seem so eager to do so.

DECEIT: Mm. I didn't particularly care for that name, it makes my work sound much gorier than it actually is. But I suppose I walked into that trap, and now there's not much else to do but tell you.

I lived in London for years before I finally saw a servant of the Desolation. It's a large city, you know. And I was less... experienced? Worldly-wise? Whatever you'd call it. I was callow and overconfident and curious.

LOGAN: You strike me as being overconfident and callow presently.

DECEIT: Oh, you wound me, Mr. Barrie--or you would, if I still had an ego to bruise. Ask me why I was curious.

LOGAN: Why were you curious?

DECEIT: It was made of wax. This person that I saw. I could tell at a glance.

LOGAN: Your power is in your eyes, correct?

DECEIT: Some of it, yes. To say nothing of the power in _your_ eyes, Archivist--but that's a discussion for another time, you're still uncomfortable with the subject. It's perfectly all right, you know. You're the same person you were before, in a sense. Just... not a _person_ in the same way as before. You'll find that life becomes much more simple once you accept that you're a monster.

LOGAN: Are you speaking from experience?

DECEIT: Obviously.

LOGAN: Do you really think of yourself as a monster?

DECEIT: I try not to think of myself as _anything_ , broadly speaking. It's hazardous to my health. But yes--what else could I be?

[silence]

DECEIT: That's checkmate, I believe.

LOGAN: Indeed. I can reset the pieces, if you'll resume your statement.

DECEIT: Is that what we're doing now? And here I thought we were just having a friendly chat. Oh, very well. As I was saying...

I had never seen a person made of wax before--well, not one that wasn't, ah, one of my 'colleagues', I suppose you could say. Naturally, I was intrigued. And I thought quite highly of my ability to go unnoticed in a crowd. I mean, I still do, but I was not nearly so practiced back then as to warrant that confidence.

This is all to say, I made the decision, on a whim, to tail the man through London, because I wanted to know what he was. Be careful what you wish for in pursuit of sating your curiosity--but I don't need to tell _you_ that, do I?

LOGAN: Unfortunately not.

DECEIT: Come now, it's not all bad, you know it isn't. Even if you're unwilling to admit that just yet.

LOGAN: But it did backfire on you.

DECEIT: In this instance, yes. I had been spotted, and worse, recognized--well, recognized as an agent of a rival power, at least. He lured me into an alley and attacked. One touch from a servant of the Desolation burns badly enough that most people would pass out from the pain.

LOGAN: Ah, but you're not most people?

DECEIT: I'm not people at all, dear, do try to pay attention--I know, I know what you're getting at, and you're right. I managed to stay conscious long enough to fight them off. Most of my left side was... quite singed, at best. I found a little corner to hide in and lick my wounds, as it were, by which I mean I fainted. Not my best day by a long shot, but somehow still not my worst.

When I woke up, these gloves were sitting on the cobblestones in front of me, neatly folded. A replacement pair for the ones I'd just ruined. As I reached for them, I could see that my left hand wasn't burned anymore. It was covered in scales. Like a snake.

LOGAN: So that is the reason you have these snakelike traits. Although I feel I still haven't been given a full explanation. Checkmate in ten.

DECEIT: We'll see about that. Try another question, I can tell you have more. And while you're at it, try a different set of moves.

LOGAN: Are you really so certain of your own inhumanity?

DECEIT: What makes you think _you're_ still human?

LOGAN: You're dodging the question.

DECEIT: You're not asking the question you really want to have answered.

LOGAN: Very well. Regardless of whether or not you see yourself as human--what makes you think you're not still a person?

[silence]

DECEIT: ...I suppose it's all to do with identity, or the lack thereof. But don't dig too deep into that, now, Archivist, you ought to leave the digging to your friend Mr. Hart. For as long as he remains so.

LOGAN: Is there a way to reverse it? This transformation?

DECEIT: To break the connection between an entity and its avatar? None that I'm aware of, at least, none that wouldn't kill the avatar in question. But I have my theories.

LOGAN: And why were you thinking about that, I wonder?

DECEIT: I suspect you already know the answer to that. Shall I drop you another hint? 

LOGAN: That depends on what you mean.

DECEIT: Berlin, nineteen-twenty-five. I left a photograph behind. I'm fairly certain it came out terribly, but I was happy at the time. I haven't been back since. I'll have to find an excuse to visit again.

LOGAN: How old are you?

DECEIT: I'm fairly certain that's supposed to be an impolite question, but I'll forgive you the breach in propriety this time. I stopped aging a while back, but I really couldn't tell you when. I gave up on keeping track of birthdays a very long time ago. I'm not living that person's life any more, so there's no reason to monitor these things.

LOGAN: That doesn't sound like a particularly pleasant existence, without milestones to celebrate.

DECEIT: Perhaps not. But it is a long and safe one.

LOGAN: Is it worth it?

DECEIT: You might ask yourself the same question. And then you'll have _my_ answer, too.

LOGAN: ...I see.

DECEIT: Would your friend Mr. Storm agree, I wonder? Would the Flesh Hive?

LOGAN: I can't speak for them. Not anymore. Although Remus and I were never especially close.

[silence]

LOGAN: And what about Thomas?

DECEIT: What about him? ...Oh, don't glare at me like that, you know the rules. Specific questions only, if you want real answers. I'm physically incapable of giving helpful advice without your clear and measured direction.

LOGAN: I'm not sure I believe that.

DECEIT: Believe what you will. The truth is immutable even for a being with powers of illusion and deception.

LOGAN: But you're not using those powers to disguise yourself right now.

DECEIT: ...I'm sorry, _what_?

LOGAN: You look exactly as Nora described you once she removed your hat.

DECEIT: You... Oh, why am I surprised, of course _you_ would be able to actually see me.

LOGAN: Does it bother you?

[silence]

DECEIT: It does unsettle me. I'm unused to being properly seen. Even before all this, to be honest.

LOGAN: Do you see yourself that way in the mirror?

DECEIT: [laughs] I never see myself in the mirror anymore.

LOGAN: Thomas did say that your reflection was... muddled, somehow. Why did you approach him first?

DECEIT: He's hard to pin down, I had to take the chance before he disappeared into his house for another three months. And I wanted to test his mettle.

LOGAN: How does he fit in to all this? The Fears? The avatars?

DECEIT: Not my story to tell. Not one that I fully know, either. He's much more clever than he pretends to be. Didn't look at me for long enough, despite my best efforts.

[silence]

LOGAN: Check.

DECEIT: Oh, look at that. You're quick to catch on, but not as quick as you'd like to be--have I got that right?

LOGAN: Does Thomas serve one of the Fears?

DECEIT: Ah. I did read you correctly. Unfortunately, dear Archivist, I can't answer a question to which you don't want the answer.

LOGAN: That in itself is answer enough. Check.

DECEIT: Is it?

LOGAN: Yes.

DECEIT: I'm not talking about the chess game, dear. Is it enough?

LOGAN: No, but I'm not going to get any further with you. Not yet.

DECEIT: Just as well, it's rather discomfiting answering your questions. I don't reveal myself for just anyone, you know.

LOGAN: And yet you haven't revealed nearly as much as you'd like me to think. Is that the move you want to make?

DECEIT: I know what I'm doing.

LOGAN: Hm.

[silence]

LOGAN: Checkmate.

DECEIT: Indeed. Well done, Archivist.

LOGAN: You let me win.

DECEIT: You were going to win anyways, I merely expedited the process. Now, I'm afraid I can't stay much longer.

LOGAN: Will you come again?

DECEIT: Why, do you want me to?

LOGAN: I would like to speak with you again, yes.

DECEIT: That's terribly flattering. I probably shouldn't... But I've never been good at resisting temptation. So yes, Mr. Barrie, you'll hear from me again, though I couldn't say when or where.

LOGAN: Will all of our meetings be recorded, at your request?

DECEIT: Oh, honey, no--this isn't 'at my request'. I'm merely attempting to accommodate _your_ needs. I keep tabs on your website, and I noticed that you hadn't posted any new transcripts lately. Which means you're not taking new statements, which means you're starving yourself. And I can't bring myself to stand by and watch while you...

[Deceit sighs]

DECEIT: What I mean to say is, I've seen other avatars destroy themselves in such feeble attempts at resistance, and I find the process unpleasant to witness. Don't misunderstand me--I'm not attached to you, Archivist, I don't get attached. I can't. But I do _like_ you, and I'd like for you to hold off on this senseless self-flagellation long enough to see reason, if you can.

I've never met someone who could see through my illusions before. At least try to keep yourself in decent shape until the novelty wears off for me?

LOGAN: Oh, well, when you put it like _that_ , how could I possibly refuse?

[Deceit laughs]

DECEIT: Sarcasm now? My, but you're full of surprises. Until next time, Mr. Barrie.

[footsteps, then... silence.]

LOGAN: ...Well. That was somehow both informative and baffling. He--wow. Um. He's certainly intelligent. And irritatingly smug. I... I feel... I have been thrown off-balance by Deceit. As a whole.

[Logan sighs]

LOGAN: I wonder... Hm. It's unusual, at this point, for me to wonder about the outcome of an action and not immediately know the answer. But Deceit remains enigmatic, as I suppose he ought to, for one who specializes in subterfuge. Still, the fact that he was able to hide anything from me...

I have to wonder if he gave enough away to establish--I am not certain yet of how this connection works, between myself and those I have interviewed. If he even sleeps. Will he dream, like the others? And if he does, will I be able to find him? 

...Will he want to be found?

[Recording ends]

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	11. Nightmare Scenario (Emile, 03-05-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Dr. Emile Picani, regarding the disappearance of his husband. Interview conducted by Logan and transcribed by Thomas.

[Recording begins]

EMILE: I... I feel a little weird about all this, to be honest.

LOGAN: Understandable. We strive for credibility, but the nature of our work can be difficult for some to accept.

EMILE: Oh, no, it's not that, exactly... Well, the 'supernatural' element isn't really putting my mind at ease, either, but, ah... I'm usually on the other side of things, I guess you could say.

LOGAN: How so?

EMILE: I'm a therapist, and I often record sessions so I don't have to take notes while I'm with a patient, and I can give them my full attention in the moment. With their full knowledge and consent, of course.

LOGAN: That sounds like a helpful practice, for someone in your profession.

EMILE: It can be. For some people it's unnerving, the idea of being recorded. I didn't know I was one of those people, but apparently...

LOGAN: Yes, well, there is a considerable difference between my research and your work, so perhaps it is simply the context in which you are being recorded that is causing your discomfort.

EMILE: Hmm... Maybe so.

LOGAN: In any case, are you ready to proceed with your statement?

EMILE: [laughs] Tough question. I mean, I'll talk about Remy, gladly, but gosh, it just... Still feels so _fresh_. I mean, this was almost a year ago, that he went missing.

'Went missing', that's not the right term. He _vanished_. I told myself that I couldn't have seen it coming, but I did notice something was off, and I can't help but think that maybe if I'd pushed a little harder to get him to just _talk_ to me I could've saved him somehow... But maybe it wouldn't have made any difference. Or maybe I would've disappeared too.

The worst part is, when I think back on our shared past, I keep getting this feeling that I know what happened to him, or that I _almost_ know. Like a word you can't quite remember, it's on the tip of my tongue. But I'm frightened by it, because I also know that if I do take that leap, if I do voice the conclusion that I'm on the cusp of drawing--then whatever it was that he was afraid of, that he was running from, will be after me too.

LOGAN: How do you know that Remy was running from something?

EMILE: He never explicitly said it, but he sometimes made allusions to a troubled past, his having left a group that, frankly, sounded like a cult. When we started dating, he'd never let me come over to his place, I assume in case they found out where he lived through following me somehow.

He said he had photophobia, extreme sensitivity to light, because of something they'd done to him, and that's why he always had to wear sunglasses. He wore them until sundown, every day--even inside the house. The first thing we did when we moved to our new house was set up his blackout curtains in every room. But he'd always leave a light on when we went to bed.

For all he avoided the light, I think he might've been afraid of the dark. I think... I think the darkness _took_ him, somehow.

And I _know_ he was taken, he didn't just leave--he'd left once in a while in the past, just for a few days, but he always came back eventually, and he never left his sunglasses behind. But they were on the kitchen table that morning, when I woke up alone. The house was so quiet... It felt so wrong, and then I saw his sunglasses, and I knew something had happened, that he wasn't coming back this time.

LOGAN: And why do you think that, the, ah, darkness 'took him'?

EMILE: We had a power outage overnight. I only noticed later that day that all the clocks in the house had reset, which means the power must have shut off for a while at some point during the night. Which means that for however long that outage lasted, we had no light source. We were in a state of total darkness.

LOGAN: But you were left unharmed?

EMILE: Remy has-- _had_ \--insomnia. It was a pretty frequent occurrence for him to get up and go get a cup of tea or just give up on sleeping entirely and watch TV downstairs. He must've been in the kitchen when it happened. There was water in the kettle...

LOGAN: You have quite the memory for details.

EMILE: I wish I didn't. I wish I could forget the way he took his coffee in the mornings or his favorite episodes of Parks & Rec, or the sound of his laughter. I wish the smell of lavender didn't make me think of him. I wish I could get rid of his pillow and his leather jacket and his sunglasses and his favorite mug and his box of Sleepy-time Tea, because it _hurts_ , but I can't. I can't lose any more of him.

And I know that there's almost no chance he's coming back, but there's a part of me that still hopes, you know?

LOGAN: ...I know _exactly_ what you mean, yes.

EMILE: So I'm not just saving all this stuff for me, I'm saving it for _him_.

LOGAN: Have you thought about what might happen if he does return? What if he comes back differently than what you remember? What if he's changed into something unrecognizable?

[silence]

EMILE: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I get the feeling you're not really asking about me and Remy right now.

[silence]

EMILE: ...I see. Tell you what, I'm gonna leave you my card, and if you need to talk about... whatever it is you're dealing with, well--I'd say offering my help is the least I can do in return for today. Even if nothing else comes of it, I feel better for having talked to you about what happened. Sometimes you just need to get it out, right?

LOGAN: Thank you... Would you mind terribly if I passed your contact information along to a few others? I think some of the people I've interviewed could benefit from speaking with someone in your profession who understands and accepts their experiences.

EMILE: Go right ahead. Is there anything else you need from me?

LOGAN: Not at the moment, no. Thank you again for your statement.

[Click]

LOGAN: Oh. Apparently I did not turn this off earlier... Why won't it--?

[sound of knocking]

LOGAN: I'll fix this in a moment, then.

[footsteps, a door opening]

ROMAN: [distant] How do I fix it?

LOGAN: [distant] Roman, what--

[footsteps, a thud]

ROMAN: [closer] I can't--you have to destroy it. I don't know if it'll fix anything, but the book can't--I can't--

LOGAN: [closer] What's going on, Roman?

ROMAN: I don't want anyone else getting hurt because of me. I think if the book is destroyed, it could stop all of this, but I can't do it myself, it won't _let_ me.

[a low buzzing sound]

LOGAN: It's too late for that. Destroying the book won't undo what's been done, it won't take your powers away, and it won't restore your mother's health.

ROMAN: Then what will?

[buzzing stops]

LOGAN: I don't know. I'm sorry, Roman.

ROMAN: Every time I try to help her I just make it worse, but there has to be a way to get her walking again, there has to be something I can do. I just wanted to use my abilities to do something good. Why can't I do that? What am I doing wrong?

LOGAN: You need to stop. You need to stop using your powers in this way.

ROMAN: I shouldn't have come here. I should've known you wouldn't be any help.

LOGAN: Just because you don't want to hear my advice doesn't mean--

ROMAN: --Destroy the book. Just do that for me, please. If you're not going to do anything else to help me, at least do that.

[footsteps, door closing]

LOGAN: ...Well. As reluctant as I am to handle "The Boneturner's Tale", I cannot simply leave it where it lies, but I also cannot allow it to fall into anyone else's hands. Destroying it is the safest option, although it will likely have a negative effect on Roman...

I can only hope he retains a good enough grip on his powers and his sanity not to cause me any harm, once he returns.

[Recording ends]

_Dr. Picani elected to give his full name, and has also provided a link to his website here for readers wishing to make use of his services as a therapist. Logan was able to find information linking Remy to the People's Church of the Divine Host, which is a presumably defunct cult, but Dr. Picani requested that the Archives not continue their search for information on this group, for his safety as well as our own._

_"The Boneturner's Tale" is currently being kept in a remote and secure location until Percy and Thomas' research is completed and they have determined the safest way to dispose of it. Roman has not contacted the Archives as of late, nor has Logan been able to contact him._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	12. Sinking Feelings (Patton, 03-25-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entry from the audio journal of Patton Hart. Recording provided by Remus Kingsley. Transcribed as always by Thomas.

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: ...What the--? I didn't start a recording...

REMUS: [echoing] Where did he go?

LOGAN: Remus, what are you doing here?

REMUS: Patton is gone.

LOGAN: What do you mean, 'gone'?

REMUS: He isn't home, he isn't at the bakery, he's _gone_. And you know as well as we do that he doesn't 'go' anywhere. So tell us where he is. You know. You _have_ to know.

LOGAN: I-I'm sorry, Remus, I don't...

[a low buzzing sound]

REMUS: What if he's dead? What if he buried himself alive and choked on the dirt and suffocated _and now he's_ \--

LOGAN: --No, Patton is alive. That much, I **know**.

REMUS: Where?

[buzzing stops]

LOGAN: ...Far away, it would seem. Somewhere outside of town, at the least.

REMUS: [not echoing] Good. That's good. I, um... Thanks. You should probably have this.

[click]

LOGAN: That's--

REMUS: He left it behind. I- _we_ found it when we went back today.

[silence]

REMUS: ...Just listen to it.

[sound of footsteps, worm noises]

LOGAN: Hm. That was... disconcerting, to say the least. Remus did not look healthy, and that's _without_ the visible presence of his worm colony. And Patton... I haven't spoken with Patton in quite some time, but the last time we spoke he seemed fine. Something must have happened between those two... But I assume this tape will shed some light on the situation.

[Recording ends]

* * *

[Recording begins]

PATTON: Well, it's been a while since I used this thing, huh? I must've really lost track of time or something. I've been absolutely swamped at the bakery, so I guess that's not too surprising. I, uh, just started my vacation, though!

...Well, it's sort of a vacation, I'm not really planning on going anywhere. I just need some time to catch up with house stuff, y'know? It's gotten pretty messy. I keep meaning to go and drop some of these boxes off at a thrift store or a homeless shelter or something, but I haven't been able to find the time. 

Everything just keeps... piling up. The only time that I feel like I actually have things under control is when I'm making something for Re--

REMUS: [echoing] Patton?

PATTON: Oh, gosh! Ree, you really startled me there. [Patton laughs]

REMUS: Sorry. We didn't mean to sneak up on you, that kind of thing just sort of happens sometimes with us. 

PATTON: Hey, no need to apologize. I was just... wrapped up in my thoughts, y'know?

REMUS: Oh, we understand. We can spend ages just talking to ourselves.

PATTON: ...Do you ever get lonely being on your own all the time?

REMUS: No! No. We're _never_ alone, silly.

PATTON: Right, right... That _was_ kinda silly of me to ask, wasn't it?

REMUS: It's all right that you don't quite 'get it', we don't expect you to understand everything about us. You're still much nicer about it all than most people we've met since our... whole... thing.

[a pause]

REMUS: [not echoing] Hm. I feel like I've been getting worse with words lately. Maybe all the talking to ourselves doesn't make for good enough practice after all...

PATTON: You could start up songwriting again--the piece you played for me last time was really something, you know. You're a lot more talented than I think you give yourself credit for.

REMUS: I'd like that, but the colony's... _picky_ , about music. Certain tones just don't work.

PATTON: That's really interesting. Do you hear things differently, too?

REMUS: Sort of, yeah. It's like a near-constant tinnitus-type-thing, if you get what I mean. There's always something playing in the back of my mind, and sometimes outside sounds make the notes go sour.

PATTON: So it's like... trying to listen to two different songs--they might be in the same key, or have the same tempo, but they still clash once in a while.

REMUS: [laughs] Exactly! We'll make a musician out of you yet, Pat!

PATTON: Aw, well, I don't know about all that, but it's nice of you to say. Oh, I made snickerdoodles, did you want--

REMUS: --As if you even have to ask. We- _I_ love everything you make!

PATTON: Y'know, the secret ingredient is love. Also extra cinnamon.

REMUS: Now if only I knew how to bake...

PATTON: You don't? Well, we've gotta fix that!

REMUS: Oh, I can't--we can't risk losing any of the colony, they might get mixed in with the ingredients.

PATTON: You could wear gloves.

REMUS: ...Yeah, maybe. We'll think about it.

[doorbell]

PATTON: Uh... You just wait here, okay?

[sound of footsteps, door opening]

CLAIRE: Mr. Hart--why do you have a tape recorder?

PATTON: Oh, I forgot I was holding this! It's my audio journal. And I know I'm your boss and everything, but you really can call me Patton.

CLAIRE: ...Right. Mr. Hart, may I come in?

PATTON: I don't think that's--

CLAIRE: --Excellent.

PATTON: W-wait!

[Remus hisses]

CLAIRE: My goodness, space is certainly tight in here. Hello, Mr. Kingsley.

REMUS: [echoing] Leave, now. _Face-Thief_.

PATTON: Remus!

CLAIRE(?): It's quite all right, Mr. Hart. I'm... used to this kind of reaction--from certain parties, at least. I should've expected that a Flesh Hive would have keener senses than most.

PATTON: ...Claire?

DECEIT: Oh, she's at the bakery. I'm merely borrowing her visage for the moment. Sorry for the deception, but... Well. It _is_ my job. In a manner of speaking. I'm just checking in today, don't you worry. The Buried's really done a number on this place... To say nothing of what it's done to _you_.

PATTON: I-I don't know what you mean.

DECEIT: Come now, Mr. Hart, I think we can speak freely--everyone in this room has a body count, after all.

PATTON: ...Remus? Ree, did you--?

REMUS: [not echoing] No! I-I didn't, they--we had to, they said we had to _grow_ , had to _feed_ , but I didn't think it meant--

DECEIT: Of course, Mr. Kingsley. You didn't know what you were doing, nor did your dear Mr. Hart.

REMUS: [echoing] Get out. Get _out_ , Face-Thief, Skin-Stealer, Impostor, Doppelganger, _begone_. Unless you want us to rip you apart so we can find out what's inside.

DECEIT: There's no need for such threats--Mr. Hart can certainly take care of himself. The collapsed buildings he leaves in his wake serve as testament to that, do they not?

REMUS: [not echoing] ...The _what_?

PATTON: I didn't-I didn't _mean_ to...

DECEIT: I know. Neither did Mr. Kingsley, I'm sure. But you can't change the facts.

[silence]

DECEIT: ...For what it's worth, I _am_ sorry.

PATTON: What for?

DECEIT: [laughs] Take your pick.

[sound of footsteps]

PATTON: Who--how--what? I... Ree, are you--

[Remus snarls]

REMUS: [echoing] Don't touch us, we'll _hurt_ you.

PATTON: You don't mean that.

REMUS: We _ate a man_ , Patton. We infected him and then the colony ate him from the inside to live in his corpse and wait to find more hosts and more prey. We'd take you, too, if you weren't already claimed.

PATTON: You wouldn't.

REMUS: [not echoing] They _would_. You can't hear them, Pat, but the things they're telling me, the things they-- _we_ want to do, what they want me to do, I can't--I don't--you need to stay far, far away from me.

PATTON: We can get you help, get them out--

REMUS: --No, no, I don't want them gone! They love me, they need me and I need them, I can't let them go, _please_ , Patton--[echoing] just _leave us alone_! Gravedigger, you make us weak, you sow discord in the hive, and it hurts, it _hurts_. We want to be near you, we _love_ you, but we hate you for coming between us, trying to _replace us_ \--! No, that's not what we, what I--I wouldn't, please, you have to know that I wouldn't--but he wants to be with us, you know he does, _if you would just let us **have him**_ \--!

[Remus cries out]

REMUS: [not echoing] No, no, no, nono _no_ _no **no**_ \--

PATTON: --Remus!

[footsteps, a door slams] 

[silence]

[Patton sobs]

[Recording ends]

_All attempts to contact Patton have gone unanswered. Percy was able to determine that he hadn't been in contact with any of his employees at the bakery aside from one phone call to Claire, wherein he stated that he would be extending his vacation 'for health reasons' (Claire noted that he seemed to have a persistent cough during their call), and that he has been gone from his home for at least a week._

_Remus is likewise unreachable--for the time being, at least. Needless to say, we are deeply concerned for them both, especially given an apparent pattern of Fear avatars disappearing recently. Please notify the Archives of any potential signs of activity from either Patton or Remus (or Virgil or Roman, for that matter, as they both seem to have gone missing as well)._

_Thank you for reading. If you are interested in furthering our research, please consider donating to our website via the Donate link, or submit your own stories of supernatural encounters via our Contact link._


	13. Up Close (Deceit, 04-02-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deceit requested another audience. Recorded and transcribed by Logan.

[Recording begins]

LOGAN: This place is disconcertingly empty. What did you do?

DECEIT: Nothing at all, and I resent the question. The current owner's a... colleague of mine, shall we say? I convinced her to lend me the space for a little while.

LOGAN: Ah. Now--

DECEIT: --No, don't ask me about Patton. I don't know where he's gone any more than you do, I'm afraid. And you know as well as I that _something_ would've happened regardless of my involvement.

I didn't need to _see_ the way you do in order to sense the tension in that house. I just... gave them both a little _nudge_ over the metaphorical edge, although that really hadn't been my intention.

LOGAN: So what was your reason for being there?

DECEIT: Same as your reason for being _here_ \--curiosity. You understand.

LOGAN: Yes, I suppose I do... And what about Virgil? Do you know anything about his current situation?

DECEIT: Oh, goodness. I don't pretend to understand how the Spiral operates, that way lies madness. Wherever he is, though, and whatever he's doing, you should know--

LOGAN: --It isn't really Virgil anymore, yes. I'm aware of that.

DECEIT: Unfortunately so. But it's good that you understand, now, what it means to be an avatar. And look at you, using contractions! You sound so much less stuffy and formal than in your early recordings.

LOGAN: I--

DECEIT: --No, no, no need to defend yourself to me about any of it. I take it to mean that you're not pretending anymore--or at least, not as much. Which is good, that's progress.

LOGAN: Is it?

DECEIT: ...Well, it's certainly _progress_. Whether that's a 'good thing' or not is a matter of perspective, I suppose. Oh, do you mind?

LOGAN: Cards, yes. What are we playing?

DECEIT: Actually, I was hoping to show you some magic tricks. Without the usual patter, of course. After all, we've more important things to talk about.

LOGAN: Go ahead. May I ask, did you learn sleight-of-hand before, during, or after your time in the circus?

[a thud, then silence]

DECEIT: ...Someone's done some very thorough research, I see.

LOGAN: Yes, well, I do have an assistant now, and he's... quite determined.

DECEIT: Ah, yes, I recall--his name is Percy, isn't it? He wears a little too much jewelry, I think, but other than that, I do appreciate his style.

LOGAN: Leave him be, Ethan Dean. Or should I call you by your stage name, Dante the Enchanter?

DECEIT: Oh, please don't use those names, they were never mine.

LOGAN: Pardon?

DECEIT: The names. I only used them because I replaced him. They were borrowed names at best, and it doesn't seem right to use them now that I've cast off his face.

LOGAN: I take it you weren't fond of him, then. So why...?

DECEIT: I _was_ fond of him, actually, but things had fallen through and I needed a place to hide. Plus, I liked the work.

LOGAN: The showmanship of a circus magician would of course appeal to you.

DECEIT: You really do think you have me figured out.

LOGAN: Don't I?

DECEIT: Even if you did, would I admit it?

[Logan laughs]

DECEIT: Huh.

LOGAN: What?

DECEIT: I don't think I've seen you smile properly until just now. It's a lovely smile. Although I can't help but feel as though I've witnessed something not meant for prying eyes like mine.

[silence]

LOGAN: Why do you pretend, the way you do, if 'not pretending' is a sign of progress?

DECEIT: A sign of progress for _you_ , not for me. The Stranger conceals, the Eye reveals. The two of us have _very_ different 'job requirements', as it were.

LOGAN: Is that your excuse for being a hypocrite?

DECEIT: Sometimes. Pick a card, Logan.

LOGAN: You've shuffled them strategically, and now you're holding them in a certain way, all so that I'll pick the card you want to use.

DECEIT: Maybe. Pick a card and find out.

[a pause]

DECEIT: I don't bite. Go on, pick a card. You're making my job terribly difficult right now.

LOGAN: You don't work as a magician anymore.

DECEIT: Don't I? Now, remember which one you picked, and put it--

LOGAN: --back in the deck, yes.

DECEIT: Don't interrupt me while I'm working, dear, it's terribly rude. ...But yes, back in the deck, please. As close to the middle as you can.

LOGAN: Was he your first? That you replaced, I mean?

DECEIT: Ethan? He might've been. It was a long time ago, as you know.

LOGAN: He seems to hold some significance for you.

DECEIT: As I said, I was fond of him. And he was an unusual case. Now, you hold the deck like so, and...

[a snap, slightly muffled]

DECEIT: ...sometimes I really hate having to wear gloves. So much for showmanship. Let's try that again with _you_ doing it, shall we?

LOGAN: What, this?

[a snap]

DECEIT: Precisely. Now, take a look at the top card.

LOGAN: Ah... This isn't my card. It isn't even a playing card.

DECEIT: Apologies, my tarot deck seems to have gotten mixed in. You know, the Lovers card has many meanings beyond the, ah, obvious. But if we flip it like _this_ \--there we are. The Ace of Diamonds. That was the card you originally drew, was it not?

LOGAN: Oh! That was actually quite well done. I'm impressed, you've clearly kept up your skills.

DECEIT: Flatterer. 

LOGAN: So what does the Lovers card mean? Beyond the obvious?

DECEIT: An important choice. Often an irreversible one, or one with serious and lasting consequences. If we'd been doing a real reading, I might put more stock into that, but as it is, I'm not sure you should dwell too much on it, assuming you put any stock in such forms of divination.

LOGAN: Is this another skill you picked up in the circus?

DECEIT: Yes, we did have a fortune-teller in our midst. She was sweet on Ethan--before and after I took over, but she never had a chance with either of us, poor thing. Pick a card, this time, before you put it back in the deck, bend it--like that, yes. And back in the middle again. Take hold of the deck as you did before, and now...

[silence]

DECEIT: ...Your card.

LOGAN: It, it went to the top without--but how did you--? [clears throat] ...You're, ah, very talented when it comes to card manipulation, apparently.

DECEIT: [laughs] Careful, dear, any more compliments from you and I'm liable to develop an ego.

LOGAN: Oh, _please_.

DECEIT: I won't ask what you mean by that remark.

LOGAN: As I said before, you're incredibly hypocritical.

DECEIT: Just like anyone else. _You_ might look in a mirror, dear.

LOGAN: I am. Right now. Aren't I? Is that not what you do, what you are? 

[silence]

DECEIT: I thought you were still of the opinion that I was a 'who', not a 'what'.

LOGAN: I am, but you previously expressed to me that--

DECEIT: No, no, it's perfectly fine. As you were about to say, I believe, that's how I _want_ to be seen, if I must be seen at all.

LOGAN: Of course.

[a pause]

DECEIT: So. You know how Three-Card Monte works, I assume?

LOGAN: Misdirection and sleight of hand?

DECEIT: ...Technically, that's correct, but I was referring to the rules of the game.

LOGAN: Oh. Well. Yes, I do know how it works. I also know it's always rigged.

DECEIT: Not always. What if I promise to play fair?

LOGAN: I wouldn't hold you to a promise like that. That would go against your nature, I suspect, and it would be cruel to force you to do so.

DECEIT: I appreciate the sentiment, but I do have _some_ freedom from my 'nature', and I often find it more entertaining to play without the usual tricks.

LOGAN: Interesting. I wouldn't have taken you for the type to leave things to chance. But you do keep surprising me...

DECEIT: Hmm. Do you like surprises?

LOGAN: Not usually, but you seem to be the exception to that rule.

DECEIT: My word, I've never been considered exceptional before.

LOGAN: And I find it hard to believe, that you've never been made to feel special.

DECEIT: Well, it comes with the territory. Blending in is priority number one, which means appearing to be as ordinary as possible.

[a pause]

DECEIT: I'm sorry, by the way.

LOGAN: What for?

DECEIT: That you have to be cruel, now. I know you're a kind man, inherently. Kinder than you'd like to let on. But there's no room for kindness under the Eye.

LOGAN: And the Stranger?

DECEIT: ...Sometimes, there's mercy, of a sort. But no, no kindness. Not real, human kindness, anyway. Not for any of the Fears, I don't think.

[a pause]

DECEIT: Where's the Queen of Hearts?

LOGAN: Here, in the center.

DECEIT: ...Well-spotted.

LOGAN: Are you going easy on me now so that you can lull me into a false sense of security for later?

DECEIT: There's little sense in taking a card game so seriously when we're not playing for money. Unless you'd like to place a bet?

LOGAN: No, thank you. Have you done this for money?

DECEIT: It was my bread and butter for a while. I don't do it much anymore, though. Too many camera phones, too many surveillance cameras. Too many eyes.

[a faint, low buzzing sound]

LOGAN: It's there.

DECEIT: I'm afraid-- _oh_. Now hold on a moment. How did you manage that? You should have been following the wrong card...

LOGAN: ...I was.

DECEIT: Aha, so I'm not the only one who isn't playing fair. You won't use your abilities to pull the truth out of people, but you'll use them to win a game?

LOGAN: That was not intentional. And you said you weren't going to trick me.

DECEIT: _You_ said you didn't expect me to keep that promise. You basically gave me your blessing.

LOGAN: ...You're incorrigible.

DECEIT: Don't sulk, dear, it's unbecoming. I don't mind, anyway. The deck's always stacked, so you may as well cheat--and that goes for more than just Three-Card Monte, obviously. You know, you'd have more control if you used your powers more often.

LOGAN: I might have more control over what I can do, but I would have much less control over who I am. And I'm not sure I'm willing to make that trade. Not without a good reason.

DECEIT: Ah. Well, I can't argue with that...

[silence]

DECEIT: Logan, what do I look like?

LOGAN: You can't--

DECEIT: --see my own reflection? No. I haven't seen my own face in almost a century.

[a pause]

LOGAN: Here. The photograph you mentioned, the last time we met. You look almost exactly the same. Save for the scales, of course. But it's the same defined jawline, the same aquiline nose, the same eyes that I'm looking at now. Your eyes looked like mirrors, when I first saw you without a disguise, but now I can tell--I can see them properly, they're two different colors, one dark brown, one bright green, it's striking...

I, um, don't usually carry that photograph around. I-I just thought I should bring it today, I don't know why, but...

DECEIT: ...I'm glad you did. Thank you, Logan. This is the original, isn't it? And there are no copies?

LOGAN: Yes. As far as Percy and I could find, there are no copies.

DECEIT: [sighs] Good.

[sound of tearing paper]

LOGAN: What--No! Why--

DECEIT: --I should've destroyed this a long time ago. I should never have let it exist in the first place. Sentimentality gets people killed, in my experience. Not _me_ , not yet, although I'm sure that it could happen this time--but the people I care for, it certainly gets _them_ killed. It has, historically, gotten people killed. And I think... If that happens this time, it might just be the death of me, too.

LOGAN: You, but, you said you don't... Do you--?

DECEIT: I lied. I do.

LOGAN: ...Oh. I... You should know, then, that I--

DECEIT: --No, you don't have to tell me anything, you don't owe me anything more than what you've already given. Thank you for making me feel like a person again, for a while. Thank you for... _seeing_ me. Actually seeing _me_. It made a nice change, and you made for very good company. I'm going to miss you quite terribly, you know.

LOGAN: Please, don't--you can't just _leave_. I can't lose anyone else, I can't...

DECEIT: I'd rather not lose _you_ , darling. Better that I leave now, while we can both still walk away from... whatever this might have become, in time. As much as I would've liked for it to become something, I can't stay any longer than I already have. I may be selfish, but not selfish enough to put your life at risk.

LOGAN: Selfish enough to run away, though. Are you really that afraid of what would happen?

DECEIT: Yes. I am. 

[silence]

LOGAN: I can't stop you from leaving, can I? I can't stop anyone... I couldn't have, even if I'd known...

DECEIT: None of that, now. You'll find the others again soon, I'm sure. If you'd just use your abilities a bit more... freely, you'd have all the tools you need. You know you're not powerless, not by a long shot. You have your gifts from the Eye. You have an impressive intellect, too, and a determination that I truly admire. Not to mention your kindness, which I dearly hope you can keep.

You could do a lot with your talents and your skills, Logan. I have no doubt that you _will_ , someday. You just have to accept that. Embrace that. In the meantime, you might try talking more with your colleagues at the Archives, perhaps. Just don't shut yourself away from the rest of the world. Don't let yourself get too lonely.

[sound of footsteps, a bell, and a door closing]

[silence]

LOGAN: Lonely. Huh. Lonely, lonely--why does that feel... And my 'colleagues at the Archives', what, who--?

[a low buzzing sound]

LOGAN: ... _Thomas_. I have to speak to him. In person. I am... not entirely looking forward to that. But it _is_ necessary, I know that. I **know** that. He's still withholding information from me, and I'm not sure that I can trust him to reveal it of his own volition--no, I'm sure that I can't.

Deceit was right. It's time that I embraced my abilities, and my role in whatever game is being played between the Fears and their agents, if I want the full story. And I do.

I _deserve_ to know.

[Recording ends]

_The Sanders Archives is currently not accepting submissions. As of now, we are on an indefinite hiatus._

_EDIT (04-04-20): Hey readers, Percy here. Thomas tells me that he and Logan are talking things out and that they're going to get everything on the right track. Logan's taking a bit of a break from the interviews and Thomas is currently focusing on other projects, but I'm still here to publish written submissions, so feel free to keep sending us donations and/or emailing us your stories. _

_Although apparently Logan's still uploading content (or maybe it's Thomas? I can't tell, but someone else is definitely online and in edit mode right now), so... stay tuned, I guess?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The card tricks Deceit performs in this chapter are two variations on the "Ambitious Card", in case anyone was curious.
> 
> ALSO check out this super cool fanart of Beholding!Logan drawn by a super cool person: https://rizzyluke.tumblr.com/post/620540571902263296/the-sanders-archives-chapter-1-villainvogue


	14. The One and Lonely (Thomas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An assortment of recordings and emails pertaining to one Thomas Sanders, as compiled and transcribed where necessary by Deceit, who has made the regrettable decision to see this debacle through to the end and generally act contrary to his primary purpose in life by exposing certain tidbits of truth regarding Thomas' dealings with certain Archives interviewees. Or perhaps subjects is the better term? Either way. You really should've changed your passwords since the last time I hacked you, Thomas...--Deceit

_Phone call to Virgil Storm, 03-07-20_

[Recording begins]

VIRGIL: [distorted] What?

THOMAS: Hey, Virge--

VIRGIL: [distorted] Don't call me that.

THOMAS: Sorry, I-I thought we were friends...

VIRGIL: I just--things are weird, right now, and--

THOMAS: --Oh, yeah, that's totally fair. I was actually calling to see if there was anything I could do to help with that! I mean, I don't fully understand what's happening with you, I get that, but if you maybe need a place to stay that's kind of... away from people, for a while? I've got a place you can use.

VIRGIL: [normal] Shit, really? I-yeah, I think that'd help. A-are you sure that's okay, though?

THOMAS: I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't sure.

VIRGIL: But, like, you barely know me...

THOMAS: Hey, any friend of Logan's is a friend of mine. And we've talked before, haven't we? You helped with the whole Roman thing, that means you're a part of the Archives team, buddy. I won't actually be at this place, anyway, so it shouldn't be a big deal, right?

VIRGIL: Seriously, you're sure? Because I'm not exactly... I dunno how to describe it, but I'm not... I'm in a bad place, I guess.

THOMAS: Yeah, literally. So get out of that place and come stay at this one. Trust me, it'll help. Here, I'll text you the address.

[slight static]

VIRGIL: ...Okay. Um, thanks. I, uh, hope you don't regret the offer, Sanders.

THOMAS: Nah, I don't think that'll happen. Keep in touch, Virge. Let me know when you get there.

VIRGIL: [distorted] Sure.

[Call ends]

* * *

_Email to Roman Kingsley, 03-09-20_

Hey, Roman.

I know we've never talked, and you probably don't know who I am, but I work with Logan. I was listening to the recording of your discussion with him, and I realized that while he might not have the knowledge to properly help you, _I_ might. 

I'm here to tell you that if you want to get rid of your powers, we can find a way. If you want to keep them, we can figure out how to use it without hurting anyone.

I've seen your art, you know, and I think you have a brilliant mind. I've got a more extensive background in this kind of thing than Logan does, and more resources too. If you can get yourself out to the address listed below, I just know that between the two of us, we can solve your issues with your abilities one way or another. And if we're lucky, we can reverse the damage that's been done with your mother.

Yeah, I did a little extra snooping and called your mom. Logan wasn't going to follow up, and I thought someone needed to check in on you and do it in a less invasive way than, say, having someone break into your house. Your mother's very worried about you, by the way, but frankly, she's afraid to reach out right now. You can guess why.

But we can work together to change that, get you back on your feet and get you into a better place for your career and your family. I've got a private library that should have all the information we'll need, although I understand if you're a little reluctant to get too close to some of the books--if that's the case, I'm happy to help you out by looking through the books myself, but it'd be best if you were there in-person. And I would love to properly meet you!

Just let me know when you might be stopping by. I've put my phone number at the bottom of the email too, so you can text or call me instead if that works better for you.

Hope to hear from you soon, Roman. I really think that if we work together, we can fix everything.

\--Thomas

* * *

_Phone call to Patton Hart, 03-27-20_

PATTON: [sniffs] Uh, hello?

THOMAS: Patton, hi, it's Thomas. I work with Logan, we've spoken over email before?

PATTON: Oh, right, yeah. Wh-why are you calling? Sorry, I... I'm a little sick, I think.

THOMAS: This is gonna sound weird, but I just had this gut feeling that I should check in with you.

PATTON: Huh. That's, uh... Pretty good timing, I guess, 'cause I'm not doing so great.

[Patton coughs]

PATTON: I swear the dust is getting worse the more I try to clean...

THOMAS: Huh. You might need a change of scenery. Get out of the city, get some fresh air. I've got a place you can use, actually.

PATTON: I--yeah, I should get out of the house, that sounds good. I should... I should go somewhere.

[Patton coughs]

THOMAS: ...Tell you what, I'm gonna be in town tomorrow afternoon, so I could give you a ride out. Is that enough time for you to pack up a bag?

PATTON: That's... yeah. I can do that. That'd be nice...

THOMAS: Well then, Patton, I'll call you again tomorrow. Okay?

PATTON: ...Okay. Okay.

[Call ends]

* * *

_Email sent to multiple addresses used by Remus Kingsley, 03-28-20_

I don't know if you check any of these, but I have to try, and hope this email reaches you.

Logan sent me the audio from the tape you gave him, and obviously, I listened. You're clearly in distress, Remus, and it sounds like you need to find somewhere safe to stay that's away from people. If you really think you're a danger to the people you care about, then I want to help you fix that.

I know a place where you can stay for however long you need, far away from anyone or anything else. All you have to do is tell me roughly where you are, and I'll send you directions. I know email is probably not the best way to reach you, but it's all I've got right now. I'll put my number at the end of this email, though, so if you'd rather call or text me, you can.

And I promise I'm not trying to hurt you or separate you from your colony. I just want you ( _all_ of you) to be safe. I think Patton would want that for you, too. So please, let me help.

I bet you don't have a lot of people you feel like you can rely on, and I know we've never met, but believe me, I can and will help. I understand what you're going through right now better than anyone, I really do. You're overwhelmed, you feel like you're on shaky ground, you don't know who to trust or what to do--I've been there.

Just know that, even if you feel you can't trust yourself, you can trust me. Whatever assistance you want, I'll give. All you have to do is ask.

Please, _please_ respond.

\--Thomas

* * *

Phone call with Logan Barrie, 04-04-20

LOGAN: I'm coming over. This is non-negotiable.

THOMAS: ...Okay. Uh, when?

LOGAN: Now.

[doorbell rings]

THOMAS: Oh, _perfect_. You can just let yourself in, the door's unlocked.

LOGAN: ...Thomas, what--

[a high-pitched whine, static]

[Call ends]

_As you might be able to guess, dear Archives readers, the address Thomas gave out was to the same place where Logan has just arrived--the Sanders family home. I've seen the outside. It's a spacious place. There's room enough to house all of them without anyone running into each other. Room enough to hide an awful lot of secrets, and none of them good. Well, not for Logan, I don't think._

_That last call was recorded today. That means there's still time,_ _I hope._

_(Time to do **what** , I don't know, but it's time that I'll use nonetheless.)_

_You're probably wondering why I'd go back for him, aren't you? Why I'd risk self-destruction to ensure Logan's safety--and it would be myself at risk, I know that now. But I've lived a long time, readers, and if there's one thing I've learned from my extensive experience in the background of other people's lives, it's that finding someone who is truly worth that kind of risk is a rare occasion indeed._

_This--by 'this' I mean the revelation of Thomas' dirty little secrets, I mean giving Logan more personal information than I've said aloud in at least ninety years, I mean stepping out of the shadows to play the hero--it all goes against my instincts completely. But he really is worth it. I believe that._

_That being said, this is still the stupidest thing I've ever done. Wish me luck._

_\--Deceit_


	15. Alone Together #1 (Multiple Accounts, 04-04-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Thomas Sanders on his upbringing, his ambitions, and the true purpose of the Archives. Excerpts from audio recordings taken inside of both the Sanders family home and the Lonely by multiple sources. All recordings uploaded directly by the Archivist.

LOGAN: Thomas, show yourself! Thomas!

[a high-pitched whining sound, static]

THOMAS: [distant, echoing] Take it easy, Logan. I'm right here. Thanks for waiting, by the way.

LOGAN: Don't play games with me.

THOMAS: I'm not. This isn't a game, believe me.

LOGAN: Then what is it?

[silence]

LOGAN: I would prefer not to have to resort to such tactics, but I can and will compel you to speak if I must.

THOMAS: You're not as powerful as you think you are, Logan. Beholding isn't an active Fear like the others, it won't intervene if you get into trouble. It just wants to watch.

LOGAN: Oh, and you know that for certain?

THOMAS: Wow, that sounds like an awful lot of confidence for someone who takes every opportunity to voice his opposition to actually using his powers. You _know_ you're holding yourself back, and until you stop caring about what other people think and feel so much, you'll never be able to compel me to--

LOGAN: Fortunately, I don't particularly care how you feel or what you think. Tell me about the entity you serve. Tell me what you're doing with my friends, and tell me _why_.

[a low buzzing sound]

THOMAS: I have three brothers, did you know that? I haven't spoken to any of them since I was a child. I wasn't supposed to, and I didn't want to anyways. You don't know what it's like to be the middle child--but neither do I, I guess. You have to feel some kind of connection to your family for stuff like that. I didn't. I don't.

The family home is huge, as you can see. There's plenty of room for a kid to hide himself away from the world, which is exactly what I did. I barely saw my brothers, or our parents. I barely saw anyone.

LOGAN: What about school?

THOMAS: At first we had tutors come to the house, which eventually turned into independent study, which turned into online courses once the concept was a little more common. Everyone and everything is online now, it's great--now I barely have to go out in public, and I can still maintain the illusion of having a social life. Not that anyone's really checking, though. The Lonely is very good at deflecting attention, even from the Eye.

I mean, you never questioned why I wanted to start the site, or where I was getting the money to pay you, you never wondered why my family had all those books on the Fears, you never thought to ask about my 'side project'--

LOGAN: --Well, I'm asking now.

THOMAS: Yeah, now that it's ready. Now that you're here.

LOGAN: What do you mean?

THOMAS: [laughs] Logan, you figured out that I've been collecting avatars. You can do the math yourself.

LOGAN: But you're missing--

THOMAS: --Deceit? Yeah, he did say he was leaving. I don't think he followed through, though. You know why? No, wait why am I phrasing that like a question--I _know_ you know why.

[a pause]

LOGAN: No. He wouldn't.

THOMAS: You sure about that?

* * *

DECEIT: ...And I'm apparently recording this. _Wonderful_. Well, at least I can safely say that I'm on the right track.

[sound of glass breaking, door opening]

DECEIT: I really hope you survive to appreciate my efforts here, Logan. I don't break in to people's houses for just _anyone_.

...That does seem to be a recurrence with you and I, doesn't it? Hmm. We'll unpack that later, I'm sure.

[footsteps]

DECEIT: My word, there are so many locked doors in this house. So many secrets. And a whole menagerie of monsters hidden away, too. But Thomas can't hide these things from _me_. Concealment is the domain of the Stranger, after all. Not as bright as he puts on, is he? Now. Which one, which one...

[clicking sound, door opening]

DECEIT: Well, this is... interesting.

[heart monitor beeping]

DECEIT: There's a man lying on a hospital bed in the center of the room, Logan. Comatose, I assume, or at least too heavily sedated to wake up just now. The bed is surrounded by machines, obviously, but also by lanterns and candles--light sources. He looks a little different from the photographs on Dr. Picani's desk, but I do believe this is his missing husband.

It's a clever way to protect a former servant of the Dark, I suppose--keep them in the light, and in the arms of the End.

I'm sure that's what Remy thought Thomas was offering--protection. Or is he a willing participant in all this? Hard to say, his eyes are closed. I can't get a read. But there's something else nearby... Let's keep looking, shall we?

[sound of footsteps, slight static]

* * *

PATTON: Hello?

[silence]

PATTON: I could've sworn I heard someone... Or maybe just some _thing_ , I don't know... That doesn't make sense, though, does it?

...Right, right, I'm just talking to myself. Silly me.

[he laughs]

PATTON: I wish...

PATTON: I-I don't remember how long I've been here. That's bad, isn't it? I mean, I can get a little forgetful sometimes, but this... It's gotta be a bad sign.

I don't like it here, I don't like how _open_ it is, there's too much _space_. It doesn't feel right, not at all. I wish I was back home...

...I'm scared. I thought I was dying, before, when I couldn't breathe and Thomas... did whatever he did to get me here, but--maybe _this_ is what it feels like.

[pause]

PATTON: There's so much I regret. I shouldn't have left, I should've gone after Remus, I should've talked to Logan--there's a lot of things I should've done, I guess. I hope they're all better off than I am right now, at least...

Yeah. Better off without me. Me and all my--

[he coughs]

PATTON: ...Oh, no. No, no, no, _please_ , no, it was supposed to be okay here, I was supposed to be _safe_ \--Thomas said, Thomas said I'd be safe--Everything is, is--

[he gasps]

PATTON: So hard to breathe--I need--Thomas? Thomas, I need--[coughs] Oh, _god_. Thomas? Anyone? [breathing heavily] I-I can't... I'm sorry... Can't... Please...

[Patton coughs. And coughs. And he doesn't stop.]

* * *

THOMAS: 'Humans are social creatures', that's a phrase that I hate. But it's sort of true, isn't it? And it's true even for those of us who are more than human, or at least, that's what we've all convinced ourselves. We need other people around for one reason or another--to distract us from ourselves, to give us validation, to witness our deeds, whatever it is, you need someone there to see you. Or at least, the 'you' that you show to other people.

LOGAN: He's not--

THOMAS: --He's a liar. And he needs you. Well, he thinks he does. Do you wanna know what I think?

LOGAN: You're going to tell me regardless of my answer.

THOMAS: Way to take the wind out of my sails, Logan. That's exactly why your so-called 'friends' don't talk to you, by the way. But yeah, here's what I think--I think Deceit just doesn't want to go back to being alone all the time. And I think that's why Remus embraced the colony so easily--he was afraid if he didn't, he'd be alone for the rest of his life.

Patton didn't tell you about his powers because he wanted an explanation, he just didn't want to be the only person who knew about what he was going through. Roman became the Boneturner because he wanted people to take notice of him, to be seen, to be admired and maybe even loved. But he just drove everyone away, and that terrifies him. Virgil--

LOGAN: --That's enough.

THOMAS: Oh, no, Logan, you wanted me to talk, you _know_ I can't stop now. Virgil's letting himself dissolve into the Distortion because that's all he has left, because he's convinced he needs to stay away from everyone but he doesn't want to be _alone_ , either, and--

LOGAN: --I said that's enough!

THOMAS: ...And you, Archivist. Why did you come here? Nobody _made_ you. You're the only person in this house with any kind of compulsion ability.

LOGAN: I'm here because my friends are here.

[silence]

THOMAS: Are they really your friends, Logan?

* * *

ROMAN: What the--? 

[click]

ROMAN: Seriously?

[click]

[Roman groans]

[click]

ROMAN: Oh, for--[censored] [censored] [still censored] why won't this stupid thing just _turn off?_

[pause]

[Roman sighs]

ROMAN: Fine. You want me to talk, huh? You want me to say it? Okay, I screwed up, I know! I know.

[pause]

ROMAN: I keep thinking about something I said to Logan. Something I used to think. That no matter how I looked, no matter what I did, I was still better than Remus, because I hadn't killed anyone. But I'm worse, aren't I? I'm so much worse. The people I hurt have to _live_ with it. And I've hurt... a lot of people. Even before all this, I think, just... in different ways.

So. This is where I belong, now. Alone. Where I can't hurt anyone anymore.

[he laughs]

ROMAN: Not that it makes much of a difference to the people I've already hurt. The damage is done, and there's nothing that can fix it. Not even me. Or, especially not me. I can't fix anything. All I can do is run from my mistakes. Stupid. Coward. Monster.

[he sighs]

ROMAN: At least Remus has someone. Well, something. It--they?--can carry a conversation with him, I assume. That's a lot better than this [censored] book. Which, oh yeah, is _here with me_ , even though my powers aren't working properly, because my luck is just that terrible. 

[pause]

ROMAN: But maybe... Maybe I can do something about it. Even if it hurts me--especially if it hurts me--destroying this, this _cursed thing_ will be worth it.

[he groans]

ROMAN: Come on, legs. We can still walk. Just a little longer, at least.

* * *

DECEIT: And here we have another sleeping beauty.

[heart monitor beeping]

DECEIT: Judging by the temperature of the room, I think it's safe to conclude that this one's associated with the Desolation. You understand, I'm sure, that I'm reluctant to spend much more time on this particular case. Especially when I could be working on finding--

[a high-pitched whine, static]

DECEIT: ...Logan. Who is apparently somewhere in the Lonely, if this is any indication. Unless... No, no, he _must_ be--he couldn't--the tape recorder... But it could've been from Patton. Maybe he's already...

[pause]

DECEIT: No, it's this place. I may be alone, right now, but Logan's still alive. He has to be. I _know_ he's here somewhere, I just have to--

VIRGIL: [distorted] Logan's here?

[Deceit shouts]

VIRGIL: The Archivist. Is _here_.

DECEIT: ...Yes?

VIRGIL: Oh, _shit_.

* * *

THOMAS: I'm serious, Logan. Are any of these people your friends? I mean, Virgil attacked you the last time you saw him, and you said yourself that it's barely even _Virgil_ anymore--

LOGAN: --Does it matter how they feel about me?

THOMAS: I think it does. To you, anyway. 

LOGAN: Patton--

THOMAS: --Doesn't want to talk to you.

LOGAN: Roman came to me for help--

THOMAS: --He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't like you very much.

LOGAN: Then Remus--

THOMAS: --Has all but explicitly stated that he doesn't want to be around you unless it's absolutely necessary.

LOGAN: Fine. But what about Deceit?

THOMAS: He hasn't lived this long by being an altruist. If it came down to a choice between your life or his, you _know_ what he'd pick. You're interesting, but ultimately, if you get in his way, you're expendable.

[silence]

LOGAN: And what about you?

THOMAS: Do I really need to say it? C'mon, Logan, I thought you were smarter than this.

LOGAN: No, that's... That's what I thought. [sighs]

THOMAS: So... What are you going to do about it?

LOGAN: There's nothing I _can_ do, is there?

THOMAS: No, you're right. There's nothing any of the other Fears can do against the Lonely, really. And now they need to _know_ that. Like you and I do.

LOGAN: [sniffs] ...What do you mean?

THOMAS: It hurts, right? Feeling the way you do right now? I can make it stop, if you'll help me with this.

[silence]

LOGAN: What do you need me to do?

_To be continued._


	16. Alone Together #2 (Multiple accounts, 04-04-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation. Recordings uploaded directly by the Archivist.

[footsteps]

ROMAN: What the...

[footsteps pick up]

ROMAN: Hey! Hey. Hey? Are you--no, wait, I don't know if I should touch him--uh... It seems like bad taste to try and poke someone's unconscious body with a stick... Not that there are any sticks around, anyway... Please wake up...

PATTON: Uh... Remus?--Oh my goodness! You're, you're not Remus...

ROMAN: No, sorry, I--

[Sound of an impact, flesh hitting flesh. A _thud_. Roman groans]

PATTON: Ree!

REMUS: [echoing] Get away from him.

ROMAN: Oh, like he'd be any safer with _you_.

[Remus hisses]

PATTON: Who... Wait, Remus, is this your brother?

REMUS/ROMAN: [simultaneously] Not anymore.

PATTON: ...Oh. Gosh, I'm so sorry--[he coughs]

[a pause]

REMUS: That...

ROMAN: That's _dirt_. What the hell, Remus, who is this?

[Patton whimpers]

REMUS: [normal] Well, shit. I left because I didn't want you getting hurt, Pat, but I hurt you anyway, didn't I? [he laughs] Don't worry, I-- _we_ hurt ourselves worse. We did. We're an us, we're not--there isn't a _me_ anymore, stupid host, stupid, sorry, sorry--

PATTON: No, hey, it's okay. It's not your fault. I-I should be apologizing to you--[he coughs] Ow. What I mean is, I... I kind of used you? If that makes sense? I used you as an escape, as an excuse to ignore a lot of stuff that I shouldn't have, and now I'm here because of that, not anything that you did. If anything, you're here because of me, I just... Dragged you down with me...

REMUS: What? No! No, we... We were afraid of hurting you, even though we--they wanted--ugh, my head hurts. _Our_ head, our head, sorry, sorry. Stop, stop it, please--[he cries out in pain]

ROMAN: Remus!

REMUS: [echoing] _No_ \--we don't know, we don't know where we end and we begin, o-or where the thoughts come from, we just know it hurts, and I--he--they-- _we_ can't take much more, Ro, it hurts... [he whimpers]

ROMAN: Oh, Reem, I... I know it probably doesn't help, or mean much anymore, but I... I kind of know how you feel, I think. I mean, look at me. Bones shouldn't be able to bend this way. It hurts, and I want it to stop, but at the same time it's so hard to want to let go of the book, or your colony, or whatever's given us power, because what happens to us when we do? And--

[a thud]

REMUS: Gravedigger? Patton!

[Patton wheezes]

PATTON: Can't, m'sorry... Can't help... So sorry...

ROMAN: Patton--It's Patton, right? You're clearly not okay yourself, I don't think you have to apologize--

PATTON: I'm--[he coughs] I'm fine. I-I'll be fine. Don't you worry--!

[Patton begins to choke, briefly, before the coughing begins again. Remus makes a noise of distress.]

ROMAN: ...Okay. We have to find a way out of here, I think. Do you mind if I--?

REMUS: Better you than us. Probably.

[A pause. Patton has stopped.]

ROMAN: He's still alive, Reem, it'll be okay.

REMUS: ...You're keeping your book.

ROMAN: Um. Yeah. For now. I mean, I definitely couldn't carry your friend here without my powers right now. I, uh, kind of got a little dependent on them?

[Remus laughs. It's humorless.]

REMUS: Oh, we understand _that_ completely.

[Another pause. Patton begins to cough again.]

ROMAN: Well, at least he's still breathing...

REMUS: We need to hurry. This way.

* * *

DECEIT: So...

VIRGIL: Yeah. You'd think an agent of the Stranger would've been able to tell this was a trap, but here we are, I guess.

DECEIT: Glass houses, Distortion. You must not be able to leave, or you wouldn't be hanging around here with the likes of me, now, would you?

VIRGIL: Yeah, well, fuck you.

DECEIT: I take it you've exhausted your options of escape.

VIRGIL: [distorted] Newsflash, asshole, I don't have any 'options of escape'. My powers don't work the way they're supposed to in here. You can't even imagine how it feels. Like phantom limb syndrome, but _I'm_ the missing limb.

DECEIT: There are more people out there who'd understand what you're going through than you might think. Well, actually, they're most likely _in here_. Not 'out there'. You know what I mean.

VIRGIL: Sure, whatever. Does it matter? We're stuck, and you're the only person I've been able to find in... however long I've been here. I don't pay much attention to the passage of time anymore.

DECEIT: Understandable, neither do I. But you're missing the point, which is that you found me. So we must be able to find the others somehow.

VIRGIL: Or this was a fluke.

DECEIT: You won't know unless you try. And I don't think you've been trying.

VIRGIL: Dude, look around. It's impossible.

DECEIT: Not for us. We're lies and hidden things. The Lonely is hiding the others from us, and no doubt filling their heads with lies too. Follow the scent.

VIRGIL: Navigating this place is still a wasted effort. You can't _get_ anywhere walking around out there.

DECEIT: So how did you find me?

VIRGIL: I was in my own hallways trying to find a way back, and the door led me to you instead.

DECEIT: ...And what does that tell you?

[pause]

VIRGIL: [distorted] Oh. Right. That's... I'm so stupid. Of course _I_ can travel through a place with an impossible layout.

DECEIT: Hopefully you're the only one who can. It'll be much easier to find the others if they all stay in one place.

[silence, slight static]

VIRGIL: What good does it even do if we find Logan, though? Like, can we even stop this ritual thing?

[Deceit sighs]

DECEIT: I have a plan. It's not a great one, but if it doesn't work, at least it'll be out of my hands by that point.

VIRGIL: ...Okay, I'm not sure what that means, but okay.

[sound of door opening and closing, footsteps, static underneath]

VIRGIL: So what's your plan? What's the catch? And don't say there isn't one, there's always a catch.

DECEIT: I've been alive a long time. Long enough to start wondering about... certain aspects of our existence as avatars. How things work. And I've developed a theory that I'm finally going to put into practice.

VIRGIL: Great. And?

DECEIT: And whether or not it works the way I want it to, it might kill me. Which should still throw a wrench in the works, so either way, you'll be fine.

VIRGIL: That heavily depends on your definition of 'fine'.

DECEIT: I have pretty low standards for that, actually.

VIRGIL: I know I'm being hypocritical, but you might need to get yourself some self-respect.

DECEIT: [sighs] That's the plan. Do you think you could find the others as well? If things don't go well, you may need to, ah--how do I put this delicately?

VIRGIL: Eat one of 'em?

DECEIT: ...In so many words, yes.

VIRGIL: I figured. That's about all I'm good for, huh?

DECEIT: Now, don't lie to _yourself_. Logan cares about you. You're still his friend, despite what you may think. That counts for something, doesn't it?

VIRGIL: I dunno. I'm not the person he wants me to be...

DECEIT: No, you're not. But not in that way.

VIRGIL: What does that even mean?

DECEIT: He wants you safe, and happy. That's all. He wants you to be the person _you_ want to be. Does that make sense?

VIRGIL: Guess so.

[silence]

DECEIT: So. Are you?

VIRGIL: Huh?

DECEIT: Are you the person you want to be?

VIRGIL: [distorted] Yeah, like I have a say in the matter anymore.

DECEIT: ...I know that deception is the domain of the Spiral, but I can bullshit with the best of them, and you, my dear Mr. Storm, are full of it.

VIRGIL: Hey! You--I--what--okay, who even _are_ you?

DECEIT: That's a complicated question, but you'll have the answer soon enough. Once we find Logan.

* * *

[a high-pitched ringing sound]

LOGAN: Wait--Thomas! Wait!

[Thomas laughs, somewhere else. It echoes in the Lonely.]

LOGAN: Why... He didn't... I don't understand, Thomas, why would you leave without telling me what to do--

THOMAS: [echoing] You already know what to do. You don't need me. You don't need anyone. We're alike that way.

LOGAN: But you _do_ need me.

THOMAS: Not if you're not going to cooperate.

LOGAN: I'm _trying_ , Thomas. I just don't know what you want from me!

[Logan's words ring out and echo into empty space. The following silence is deafening.]

LOGAN: ...Oh. He's gone. He's gone, and I'm alone. Again... As always, I suppose. Perhaps I was meant to be alone. I mean, everyone else left me behind, is it any surprise that Thomas would too?

[a pause]

LOGAN: Does it matter where I am? No. No, I don't need him to release me from this place. There is no escape. Not from any of it. So what does it matter whether I'm alone, or...

[A distant rumble. The wind picks up, finally audible]

LOGAN: Maybe I've always been alone. Alone, except for the Eye. And even then... It doesn't interfere. It wouldn't intervene. It doesn't care about me beyond the stories I feed it. And why should it? I'm not even human anymore. If I ever was...

[The wind grows louder, but Logan is still audible. He is in the eye of the storm. Static.]

VIRGIL: [heavily distorted] Oh, wh-- the f--k is this? --gan? _Logan!_

DECEIT: ...I'm not sure that's Logan anymore. Virgil, grab the others, as many as you can find. Bring them here.

VIRGIL: [distorted] Here? Are you insane?

DECEIT: At this point, who can say? Look, worst case scenario, we all die. But at least we don't die alone.

VIRGIL: ...I hate you.

[Static. A door closes.]

DECEIT: ...Right. Here we go. [louder] Archivist? I have a statement for you. About me. My life. Before I held any of these titles, when all I had was the name I was born with. Do you want to hear it?

[The wind quiets, just barely.]

LOGAN: **Tell me.**

_The statement of [REDACTED] will be uploaded separately. Recording continues._


	17. Saving Face/Saving Grace (04-04-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((WARNING: this chapter contains descriptions of the sound of vomiting on multiple occasions, anyone with emetophobia should proceed with caution)) Statement of the creature formerly known as The Skin-Stealer, Face-Thief, Damien Serpentes, Ethan Dean/"Dante the Enchanter", and others; regarding his history and transformation. Statement recorded and uploaded by the Archivist. Further statements--further statements--further statements--[ERROR]

DECEIT: You know some of my names, by now. The first, though. The first was Theo--Theodore Phillips.

I was one of seven children. One of the younger children, but still somewhere in the middle, which I'm sure is no surprise.

I first realized I was invisible at thirteen. I would sneak out, slip away, get in all sorts of trouble for however long I wanted--and each time, when I came home, no-one had even noticed I'd been gone, not even if it had been days since they'd seen me. It took me two more years to work up the courage to leave for good. But in that time, I'd figured out where to go.

Every year, the same circus came through town. The magician--Ethan--was only a few years older than I was, only just eighteen, only just joined the group. He was the first person who saw me, but not for the right reasons.

He saw how I was overlooked, how I was small and sneaky and quick-fingered. And he taught me how to disguise my face, how to change my voice, how to act like a different person. All so that he could have a convincing plant in the audience for his more ambitious tricks, and a pickpocket to earn him some extra money on the side.

He called me his assistant, when we were in private. He gave me a share of the ticket sales and half of whatever I could steal, he let me stay in his caravan, and for a while, I convinced myself that it was enough. But eventually, I asked him for more, and he said that the next show we did, he'd have me onstage as his assistant. No more hiding in the crowd pretending to be just another spectator. The audience would _see_ me, the way they saw him.

But then a trick went wrong. So very wrong.

You never mentioned seeing it, before--I'm not sure if it's visible, but if you feel, just here, there's still a nice big scar from the shrapnel. A firework went off at the wrong time, or I was standing in the wrong place, it's all a blur, but... Well. There was no disguising my face after that. No hiding in crowds. Not that it mattered by that point.

Ethan got the worst of it, he was practically on top of the explosion. He was unrecognizable when they pulled his body out of the tent. By that time, I was old enough to pass myself off as him--we had just about the same hair, we were roughly the same height, same shape. It helped that he wore his costume around a lot even when he wasn't performing, including the mask, so...

They assumed I was him, and I didn't correct them. Because they wanted me to be Ethan. They had no use for Theo, not for a magician's assistant without a magician. They'd barely even glanced my way before, I might as well have not been there at all. The fact that they didn't even ask about what happened to 'my' assistant was proof enough of that. I'd known these people for three years and none of them had ever bothered to learn my name, much less pay attention to what I looked like.

The mask survived the fire, somehow. I think you can guess who--or _what_ \--might've had a hand in that. I wore it always. I preferred seeing the mask in the mirror over the scarred face underneath. And then one day I found that I couldn't take it off.

I ran, again. By then the war was over--I should say the Great War, I suppose--and while the soldiers returned home, I went in the opposite direction. I just wanted to get as far away from my old life--from Ethan's stolen life--as possible. I expected to get some funny looks because of the mask, but no-one seemed to look at me long enough to see it.

I never quite worked up the nerve to ask someone about it, but I caught a glance at my reflection once I got off the ship in Normandy. There was no mask in sight. I just looked like _him_. Eventually I stopped feeling the mask on my face, because I had _become_ the mask.

I'd invented several new personas, by the time I reached Berlin. Nobody ever questioned what I told them, no matter the story I gave. I started to see their secrets, when I looked in their eyes long enough. And just like that, I could pass myself off as an old friend, or a relative they'd thought lost in the war. And then I could wear _their_ face, too.

I lived like that, in Berlin, for as long as I could. For as long as it was safe. When the brownshirts started raiding the clubs, I hightailed it back to France, and from there, I took the first ship to England. I met another avatar in London, a Flesh avatar much like Roman--he was an artist, his canvas was skin and his clay was muscle and fat. As close as you could get to being the Boneturner without the book. He was the first person to see past my illusions, though that was only because I had finally learned how to drop them.

He looked at me like I was something beautiful, when he first saw me change my face. He told me he'd found his destiny in me, that we were the same. I loved him. I lived with him, for a time, and I thought that was going to be my life, until another agent of the Stranger killed him in front of me.

She had been watching us for a while, she said. She thought I was getting sloppy. Careless. Growing weak, and vulnerable. Because of him, because of how I'd let him into my life. I probably was. You see now why I thought I had to leave, Logan, when you and I started getting... close. I hadn't let anyone get that close, you know, since I lost him. But you _looked_ at me, and... Well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

The point is, I learned the hard way that I couldn't have a normal life anymore. It was around that time when I stopped being able to see my reflection. And then, of course, I learned that I had become a monster. I trust I don't need to recount the incident with the People's Church again.

[a pause]

DECEIT: No? Good. Obviously, I didn't last much longer there after all of that. It's swarming with avatars, that city. That whole country, in fact, but I digress. I moved on, ended up wandering across the whole of North America, learning all sorts of trades, skills, doing everything I could to survive. And that's all it was. Surviving.

Until I found your website, Logan. Life became interesting again, _fun_ again. I made a game of it, testing your powers, seeing what I could sneak past you. Seeing how close I could get to the other avatars in the area without them noticing. And even though I'd barely interacted with them--any of them, not even you--I found myself feeling at home. For the first time since I left the music halls of Berlin, I felt like I belonged. Like I was seen.

Especially by you, my dear Archivist. You wanted to know me, not just because it was your imperative to _know_ , but because you thought I was _interesting_. And your interest wasn't about what I could do, it wasn't because of the faces I wore, no. You wanted to find out who _I_ was. And you liked me. At least, I think you did. I certainly liked you. I still do, obviously, or I wouldn't be here now, telling you all of this... I've never told anyone the whole story, you know. Not even Ethan. Not even the boy I loved in London.

LOGAN: But you're telling me now. Because I _forced_ you to tell me.

DECEIT: No, not quite. You compelled me to speak, yes, but with my abilities, I could've held back quite a lot of information. You know that, you've seen me do it. I _chose_ to tell you everything. So ask me why.

[a pause]

LOGAN: Why?

DECEIT: Because I'm tired of living in the shadows. Because I want people to know me, I want _you_ to know me. Because I care about you. I might even love you, I don't know yet, but I'd like the chance to find out. You gave me hope that I could be more than a monster, more than a tool for the Stranger to use. I want that. I want to have a life that's _mine_ , and I want to share it with you, in whatever way you'll have me.

[Static. The wind picks up. ~~Deceit~~ ~~Theo~~ Dee suddenly cries out in pain. A _thud_. A door opens.]

PATTON: Logan! Are you okay?

ROMAN: ...You have some seriously skewed priorities.

REMUS: We could say the same thing about _you_.

ROMAN: Hey, don't be mean to me, I just carried your boyfriend all the way here!

REMUS: Shut _up_ , Roman.

PATTON: Oh, we're not, exactly, uh--[he coughs] Sorry. I'm all right, you can put me down.

ROMAN: If you're sure...

PATTON: Sure, I'm sure! I don't want to be a burden, y'know, i-it's my thing to deal with, and... I don't want to drag anyone into it.

[Thomas laughs. It doesn't echo.]

THOMAS: Little late for that, Pat.

REMUS: Nice rhyme. Too bad you're an asshole.

PATTON: ...Thomas is right, though. It is too late. And I've been ignoring it for too long. I've been trying to cover it up, push it aside, because I feel like my problems are so small compared to everyone else's--especially everyone that's here. I mean, you've all got this supernatural stuff--but I have it too, don't I?

No, I know I do. I've just been pretending that everything's normal and everything's fine because I'm scared of what happens when I acknowledge that it isn't. I'm scared of myself. I'm scared of how I feel, because what if it never gets better? But it's getting worse, this way, it must be, or I wouldn't be literally coughing up dirt. That's not _normal_. That's not _fine_. _I'm_ not fine.

I want to stop living like this. I want to stop feeling like I have to-to _bury_ every bad feeling I have, because I know now that it doesn't work. It doesn't make me feel better, it only makes me feel worse.

I'm so, _so_ sick of feeling this way. I should've said something ages ago, I should've asked for help. But it's not too late to ask now, is it? It's not too late for things to get better, for _me_ to get better? I--no, that's not a question. It isn't too late. I-I have to believe that. I--

[Patton retches]

ROMAN: Oh, that's a _lot_ of dirt.

[Remus growls]

REMUS: Stop. Stop it. I don't _want_ that. Shut up shut up _shut up_ \--beaver testicles used to be an ingredient in contraceptives, vultures shit themselves to regulate their body temperature, and _I'm not listening to you--_

VIRGIL: Reem?

REMUS: [echoing] I _won't_. 

ROMAN: Whatever your worms are telling you--

[Remus laughs. Desperate.]

REMUS: They're not mine, I'm _theirs_. And I hate it! I thought I was happy, how stupid can you get? I let them use me, because I thought it was love--[echoing] but it _is_ love, it is still love, it's the kind that devours and consumes and--[normal] I _don't want it anymore._ I was lonely, and I thought we understood each other. I thought this was what I wanted--[echoing] but we're supposed to be happy, we're supposed to be together--

ROMAN: --Since when have you ever done what you're supposed to?

REMUS: I _know_. This isn't me. This is _us_... And I don't _like_ being 'us'--no, _no_ , shut up! I'm done listening to you! I don't need this, I don't need them, I want them to stop, but... I-I'm not enough on my own, I can't do it...

ROMAN: Yes, you can. You're my weird, brilliant, headstrong brother, and you can do anything you set your mind to.

REMUS: I don't want to be alone, Ro...

ROMAN: You _aren't_. I... I know I haven't been the best brother, not by a long shot. And I want to... That is, if you want my help, my support, I'm here. But for whatever my word is worth to you, you're more than enough on your own. I've always thought so. And I'm so, _so_ sorry that I ever made it seem like I thought otherwise.

THOMAS: Hypocrite--ow!

VIRGIL: [distorted] Watch it.

ROMAN: No, Virgil, he's right. I am a hypocrite. It's time to stop fixating on all the things I've done wrong, all the imperfections I see in myself. What I've been doing isn't helping. I thought that, with my powers, I could fix everything that was wrong with my life, but it's just made everything worse. It's made _me_ worse, in so many ways.

So no more hiding behind my powers. No more self-deprecation. No more self-doubt. Not today, at least. Today, I want to be more like my stubborn, brave, _independent_ little brother.

[Remus retches. The worms _splat_ wetly on the ground, and begin to scream and die.]

[Roman audibly tears the Boneturner's Tale in two. He cries out as his bones wrench back into their proper places with a grinding, horrible sound.]

THOMAS: Oh, ew. _Ew_.

PATTON: Ha--what the--? Oh, I don't--Uh... A-are they going to be okay, do you think?

REMUS: [panting] How--many times--do I have--to tell you... I'm only younger... by twenty minutes?

[Roman laughs, breathless]

ROMAN: Oh, it's good to have you back.

[Roman lets out a sudden grunt as Remus audibly crashes into him and they both fall to the ground with a _thud_ ]

ROMAN: _Ow_ , watch it... Wow, you smell terrible.

REMUS: [muffled] That sounds like a 'you' problem.

[Dee groans]

VIRGIL: Whoa! Shit, are you--

DEE: Fine. I-I'm fine. [he laughs] I'm alive, I'm _great_. Hey, could you get me a mirror?

LOGAN: Distortion, you--

VIRGIL: Don't call me that. _Please_. I don't want to be this, I don't want these powers, I thought it was what I deserved, but I'm... I'm more than that, I'm worth more than that. We both are.

LOGAN: You don't believe that.

VIRGIL: Maybe I don't believe that about myself right now. But you do. And so does your boyfriend. And I believe it about _you_. That all has to count for something. Right?

DEE: Oh, I'm not his boyfriend, but yes.

VIRGIL: Whatever, the point is, just because I think something is true doesn't mean that it is the truth--you know how anxiety works, Logan. How many times have you talked me down from a panic attack? How many times have I called you in the middle of the night so you could point out the flaws in my logic? The Lonely is _lying_ to you.

I know, I _know_ I'm not the best person to tell what's real and what's not, especially now, but I know this much--you have so many people who care about you. You're loved. Not by the Eye, by _us_. Your _friends_. I know you, Logan, you're not just the Archivist, you're not just a voice on a recording, you're smart and so impossibly _kind_ and loyal and I pretend to be annoyed when you get all hung up on how I word something or when a joke flies over your head but it's fine, it's part of your charm. I still think you're cool. _Without_ your powers.

That's real. You're my best friend. I'd be so much worse off without you, and I've never regretted anything as much as I regret walking away from you. I care so much more about you than I've ever said, and I'm so, so sorry that I've hurt you, because I know I have. That's _real_. Our friendship is real. The hold that these--what are we calling them, Fears?--have over both of us? It's only as strong as we let it be. Its power is only _real_ if we allow it to be.

[The static builds]

VIRGIL: --you know what? Yes, I'm scared of wh-- hap--ns if I'm not part of th- Dis---tion anymore, yes I'm sca--d that we're all going to be st--k in the Lonely --til we die, which m-ght -- soon. But whatev-- h--pens, _I refuse to let a stupid building with ugly carpets hold me hostage for the rest of my life!_

[With a whine and a sudden _pop_ , the static is gone]

VIRGIL: Oh, I'm super lightheaded now... 

PATTON: Try--[he clears his throat] Try not to faint, okay?

VIRGIL: [he laughs] Sure. I don't want to miss taking this asshole down, after all.

THOMAS: Wh--I'm not!--Look, I'm just doing what I have to for the Lonely, okay?

LOGAN: Oh, I **_see_**. You're doing this because you think you're _supposed_ to.

THOMAS: I _am_ supposed to. And what's wrong with that?

REMUS: When was the last time you made a choice for yourself?

THOMAS: What--I--

LOGAN: It's been so long, hasn't it? You've been lying to yourself for years and years. Telling yourself that you're happy this way. That this is what you want to do with your life.

THOMAS: But--You don't understand, I--

DEE: Is this what you _really_ wanted, Thomas?

THOMAS: **_No!_**

[silence]

THOMAS: I don't--I don't _like_ being around people, but--

LOGAN: --Falsehood.

[A pause. The wind _howls_.]

THOMAS: ...I'm _afraid_ , okay? Is that what you want me to say? That I'm terrified of being noticed, or worse, being ignored, and because of that I keep my distance from everyone, but I want it anyway, and all of it scares me. So, so much.

ROMAN: That's a lonely way to live.

THOMAS: That's the _point_.

VIRGIL: But it's not making you happy.

THOMAS: Well, it doesn't matter if--if I... It doesn't matter...

DEE: Not to the Lonely, no. But it should matter to _you_.

THOMAS: Why are you doing this?

DEE: Because you need help. And for better or worse, I think you're one of us.

ROMAN: So do I. Look around you, Thomas. We _get it_. I mean, I can't speak for everyone, but I think you wouldn't have been able to convince us all to come to you if you didn't know exactly what we were going through. And you knew because it was happening to you too. Am I right?

THOMAS: But my family--I have to--

REMUS: Bullshit. They made you feel like you had to do this with your life, didn't they? Like you owed them that.

THOMAS: I just, I need to do this one thing right...

REMUS: They won't magically turn into a better family if you bring about the apocalypse. I mean, I assume that's not how this works.

THOMAS: That's not what I mean!

DEE: Then what do you mean, Thomas? Why do you have to serve the Lonely?

THOMAS: Because then I can stop feeling like this! Then all the years I spent wanting to be... All the work I put in, everything I gave up, it'll be worth it if it means I can just stop hurting.

VIRGIL: Sure, you'll stop hurting. You'll stop _feeling_ entirely. That's not a reward.

PATTON: Wanting to be what, Thomas?

[a pause]

PATTON: Kiddo?

THOMAS: ...Loved. Wanting to be loved.

[he sniffs]

PATTON: Oh, _Thomas_. Hey, it's okay. C'mere.

THOMAS: I don't--I lied to you, I _hurt_ you, I don't deserve--

PATTON: Sure you do. Everyone deserves a second chance. If it's not too late for the rest of us, it's not too late for you.

DEE: Like I said, you're one of us.

PATTON: C'mon. Let's get out of here, huh? All of us. Together.

THOMAS: ...Yeah. Together.

[A high-pitched ringing noise. It grows louder, echoing, until suddenly, it stops. The following silence is heavy.]

VIRGIL: So... Hey, uh, Logan's not-boyfriend.

DEE: You can call me Dee.

VIRGIL: Cool. Dee, why is it still cold and terrible if we're out of the Lonely?

[a pause]

THOMAS: Logan. It's Logan, I-I think. I mean, it's gotta be, right?

LOGAN: It is. I'm still connected to Beholding. It's just enough to keep the process going.

PATTON: So how do you break the connection?

THOMAS: ...Do you _want_ to break the connection?

[a pause]

DEE: Logan?

LOGAN: ...To be honest, I do want what the Eye offers. The knowledge, the power, the illusion of control. But it _is_ only an illusion. I feel like I can do nothing but watch all these horrible things, all this pain, play out in front of me.

And if I don't have the capacity to do anything about it, if I lose the desire to _do_ anything about it--then what's the point of trading away my humanity? I don't want to be 'above it all' as some cold and passive observer. I want to _live_ life, not just watch it.

DEE: So what will you _do_ , then?

[a pause]

LOGAN: ...I think I know. Dee, Patton, Roman, could you give me those--yes, thank you.

[click]

[click]

[click]

ROMAN: Oh, so _you_ can get them to turn off.

LOGAN: For now. Hopefully forever.

DEE: I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

LOGAN: Oh, I don't intend to 'wait and see' anymore. This is just the start.

[Recording ends]


	18. What Comes Next (04-08-20)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blog post, Apr. 8, 2020, by Percy Miller

**The Future of the Archives**

Hey, everyone. So I still don't know what was going on the other day with the posts that uploaded themselves and then got deleted all of a sudden. I couldn't recover them, but neither Thomas and Logan seemed to be bothered by that, so either they also don't know what happened, or they do know and they just don't want to talk about it. Maybe we got hacked again? Either way, it doesn't really matter at this point, because the Archives are about to undergo some major changes.

Namely, we're shifting focus from research and data-collection to community forums and support. We're still accepting submissions, but we won't be doing any more interviews. Logan specifically stated that the current approach felt 'voyeuristic and exploitative'--basically, that we were using people's trauma for its shock value to increase our readership, which is honestly a valid criticism in my opinion--and that he wanted to do something 'more helpful', although I think he intends to take a break from working with the Archives for now, for his mental health. You'll probably see a post from him about that soon.

That being said, since we'll have less of a need for researchers now that we're focusing our efforts elsewhere, this is going to be my last post as part of the Archives team. I'm fully behind the idea of creating an online 'supernatural support network', as Thomas calls it, it's just not the work I signed up for, and I think my time and skills are better spent continuing as an independent researcher.

I wish everyone the best of luck with the new direction of the site. You'll probably still see me around the forums once they're set up, actually. I think they'll be a great resource in a lot of different ways. Thomas is bringing on a webmaster for that soon, I think his name is Dee? There'll be a formal post introducing him at some point, I'm sure. 

In the meantime, readers, keep your eyes out for anything weird, but keep yourselves safe first. It's a dangerous business, chasing after monsters.

 _\--_ Percy

_Thank you for reading. To help us continue to grow our site, please consider donating via **[this link](https://thesandersarchives.tumblr.com/)**. If you have a story you'd like to tell, or if you have any questions, feel free to contact us **[here](https://thesandersarchives.tumblr.com/ask)**._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for a new collection of stories set in this universe, "The Picani Sessions" (aka Everyone Goes to Therapy). Not sure when it'll be up, I've only got a vague outline for it, but hopefully I'll have the first chapter or two written and posted before the summer's out. In the meantime, click the links in this chapter to see where I'll be posting short pieces expanding on the world of the fic and the things that went on outside of the recordings. It's also got my original concept posts, extra info, and playlists for each main character!


End file.
